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166

WASHINGTON.

I will sing the grand New World,
I will sing God's elect man,
Dowered with strength divine to found it
On a new high-fortuned plan.
Meagre souls there be who fancy
God as meagre as themselves,
That His tale of things was ended
With the books upon their shelves!
With the record of their glories,
Battles, blunders, brawls and blood,
When high-vaulting Whigs and Tories
Clutched the stars, or kissed the mud!

167

Foolish! sooner might a starveling,
Begging pence from door to door,
Know what millions mean, when counted
In a rich man's golden store,
Than the self-spun speculation
Of the mole-eyed minion man,
Tell the bearings of the broad-winged
Stretch of God's far-sweeping plan!
Poets dream, and scheming sages
Pile Utopias all their own;
But the greatest of all dreamers
Is a fool upon a throne.
James the Scot was king and coward,
Pedant, fool, and fox to boot,
With a brain that fondled fancies,
And a deft tongue for dispute.
Born was he in fretful Albyn
Where the prickly thistle grows,

168

Which he grasped with bleeding fingers:
Now he dwells in soft repose,
Dwells in majesty of Whitehall,
Where the Tudors had their will;
Here the Scot shall heir their fortunes
With a braver mission still.
He will king it grandly, grandly,
Like crowned heads beyond the sea,
From his ring of stiff-souled barons,
From his rude-mouthed preachers, free.
Preachers, curs! an unwhipt nation,
Barking in their master's face,
Who should wear their gilded collars
At his feet with crouching grace,
Bring them hither! He hath seen them,
He hath heard them for his sport,
With brave show of Latin learning,
From his throne in Hampton Court.

169

He hath heard their humble craving,
Loyal suit for mild release
From harsh Tudor-laws that hindered
Pious souls to pray in peace.
Only as a priest might drill them,
Or a king with penal rod,
Might they pour the heavy burden
Of their sins before their God.
But the good and godly people
Read God's holy book with awe,
And they read no praise of bishops
There, or kings above the law.
Cæsar's things they gave to Cæsar,
Things of God they gave to God;
But to stint free breath in prayer
To bishop's mace and monarch's rod,
God denies. But James took counsel
Blindly with his blinded mind:

170

“Let them go!—we may not harbour
Vermin of this saucy kind!
“Let them wander far from England,
There to hug their private notion,
To the land of dykes and ditches,
To wide wastes beyond the ocean!
“Kings were useless might each unlearned
Bible-speller forge a creed;
Kings bear rule from God's fair garden
Forth to pluck the baneful weed!”
Thus he spake. The godly people
From crowned folly wisely fled
To the land of dykes and ditches,
Where young Freedom reared her head;
Nor there tarried long. More faithful
To their king than he to them,
They would draw their sapful virtue
Still from England's lusty stem.

171

From the land of dykes and ditches,
Down the sluggish Maas they creep,
On to Plymouth, where Old England
Stout her naval watch doth keep.
Thence with hearts to God devoted,
And with souls from slavery free,
They have sailed, the godly people,
Westward, westward o'er the sea.
Through the heaving high-towered billows
Storms that rage with savage glee,
With split masts and creaking timbers,
To a land where thought is free.
There to found a brave New England,
Mighty tree from little seed,
Where no sophist-king might dare
To twist a text, or carve a creed.
They have landed in the shallows
'Neath thy sheltering wing, Cape Cod;

172

There they knee the sand in thankful
Worship to their Saviour God.
They have looked about with wonder
On the strange new-customed strand,
Trees on trees in plumy grandeur
Waving fragrance from the land.
They have looked upon the broad bay
Where huge whales are spouting high,
On the creeks where ducks and wild geese
Sport, all gleefully and shy.
They have sent their best and bravest,
Standish fearles and adroit,
To explore the riskful traces
Of the red-skinned Massasoit.
They have seen the black-haired nation
Plumed and feathered like a fan,
Wild, uncouth, uncomely people,
Like the roving gipsy clan!

173

And they made truce with the people,
Faithful vows that they should be
Free from harm from sons of England,
Born with birthright to be free!
And they built their town beside them,
Nicely measured; row on row
Each man built his rough-hewn dwelling,
That the work might bravely grow.
And they built a church and schoolhouse
With fair front and goodly show,
That the town, with God's good blessing
On the work, might chastely grow.
And it grew; but slowly, slowly,
As sweet flowers 'neath frosty dew;
Cold and sickness and starvation
Made them dwindle to a few;
Few but faithful; though with bleeding
Foot the unschooled soil they trod,

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Still they plied their earth-subduing
Task, and praised their Saviour God.
And they piled a brave new Plymouth,
Founded by the salt sea-foam,
On a rock like that Tarpeian ridge
That cradled mighty Rome!
Nor alone on Nausite waters,
Where the grampus spouts and rolls
For a grand new world of freemen
God prepared His ransomed souls.
Southward too, beyond the Hudson,
Where Potómac pours his flood
Grew to manly firm consistence
English life from English blood.
There from civil feud and faction,
Hatred, jealousy, and strife,

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Noble men of pith and prudence
Sought and found a peaceful life;
Life like Adam's in the garden,
Digging, delving, planting, sowing,
Like the stout old Cincinnati,
When the pride of Rome was growing.
There in use of hardy nurture,
From wise father wiser son,
To the strength of stately manhood
Grew the noble Washington.
God had shaped him for a leader:
With his playmates in the school
George was mild and George was modest,
But they felt that he must rule.
First was he in every youthful
Sport; supreme in mimic wars,
Racing, leaping, wrestling, swimming,
Pitching quoits and tossing bars.

176

If a horse was fierce and furious,
With kick and start and caracole,
Only George could hold the rider's seat
With kingly firm control.
Thoughtful too; not hot and heady,
But with measured grace and slow;
Where his cool eye made the survey,
There he launched the well-poised blow.
Not a man of random plunges,
Dash, and dart, and snatch was he;
But he stood, as stands a pilot
In the many-tossing sea,
Master of himself; the planets,
In their measured going on,
Wheel not with a march more steady
Than the soul of Washington.
With no wavering consecration
Of the manliest thing in man,

177

He had gaged his life to duty
On a holy-purposed plan.
Trained in field-work, trained in camp-work,
Like his work, his mind was true;
Line by line, like wise besieger,
To his aim he nearer drew.
Times are ripening for his counsel,
For his strength, and for his daring;
West beyond the Alleghany,
Seeds of prickly strife are bearing
Bloody fruit. On the Ohio,
With huge lust of large command,
France with vulture-wings was hovering
O'er Virginia's happy land,
Where the Shenandoah, daughter
Of the stars, with fruitful flood
Grandly rolling, softly swirling,
Waters many a pine-clad rood.

178

With delayful and unskilful
Counsel England saw the Franks,
In the Northland and the Westland
Pile their forts in bristling ranks;
Saw, and sent a boastful captain,
In the strange wild warfare rude,
With sharp word and stroke to humble
Haughty Gaul's defiant mood.
Vainly; wilful-counselled Braddock,
With proud front and haughty nose,
Fell, as evermore the braggart
Falls who lightly holds his foes.
Not so Washington, who followed
Where the beaten boaster fell;
Wise and wary, in wild warfare
At Potomac practised well.
Well he knew the red-skinned nations,
Ever threatful, never sure,

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Quick to start from unseen covert,
Like the wild bird on the moor;
Skulking now in leafy ambush,
Rattling now like stony hail,
Weak to stand in serried phalanx,
Where the marshalled lines prevail.
He their flooded streams had breasted,
Slept in rain and camped in snow,
With an eagle eye had followed
Where a hunter's foot might go.
With quick start of fiery venture,
Like the spreading of a flame,
To the fork of mighty waters
In Ohio's vale he came;
To the strong fort where the Frenchman,
Sweeping all the Western plain
From the Lakes down Mississippi,
Claimed the haughty right to reign.

180

And the British flag he planted
On the steep brow of Du Quesne,
At the forking of the waters,
Whence the Frenchmen vexed the plain.
And they fled as flee the pigeons,
When the hawk swoops down amain,
From the forking of the waters
Nevermore to vex the plain;
Never from that height to flourish
Trenchant blade and supple wit,
New baptised for England's glory
With the noble name of Pitt!

Pittsburg.—Since its rebaptism in 1755, it has become famous as a manufacturing town in such a fashion as to have been styled the American Birmingham.


Years rolled on. In lusty boyhood,
With brave front and shining face,
From Virginia to St Lawrence
Grew the grand New World apace.

181

But the mother of the brave boy,
Far with blindly groping hands
Deemed the boy was still a baby,
Needful of her swaddling-bands.
And she sent unskilful nurses
'Cross the wide Atlantic flood,
Some to spur the baby's pulses,
Some to suck the baby's blood.
Motley nurses, titled nurses,
Soldiers, courtiers, lords, and earls,
Talking much of needful nursing,
Dreaming much of gold and pearls.
But the boy was rough and rampant,
Baby would be hight no more,
He would use his legs at pleasure,
Keep the key of his own store.
Lusty babes disown the mother's
Tearful cares and fingering hands;

182

Sturdy boys fling back the father's
Word that cramps while it commands.
So the quarrel grew. In London,
Ignorance from haughty breast
Vowed a vow of sharp correction
To the baby in the West.
But the baby, like Alcmena's
Jove-born son, when Greece began,
Snapt his bands, and stood erect
With face of boy and soul of man.
Men of Plymouth and of Boston,
Had they fled beyond the waves
Only for a change of masters,
With the unchanged name of slaves?
Had the evil-counselled Stuarts
Bled and fled and fought in vain,
And shall dull-brained Hanoverians
Tempt the despot's game again?

183

No! Stout Saxon-blooded yeomen
Never kissed a tyrant's rod;
They too had their Magna Charta
From wise William and from God.
They would pay their own State-servants,
Measured work for measured fee;
They would drink, untaxed, unrated,
Their own wine and their own tea.
Free is none who owns a master
On far throne beyond the sea;
Only those who use a home-bred
Ruler, know that they are free.
Thus outspake brave Boston's freemen,
And with one stroke snapt their gyves;
But the pig-brained Hanoverian
Still would stir the fire with knives.
With wise prophet's voice of warning,
Burke their courtly ears assailed;

184

But the brainless and the boastful
In the strife of words prevailed;
Words that meant sharp swords. To Boston's
Island-fretted ample bay
England sent her hireling Hessians,
And her ships in brave array,
There to stamp out holy Freedom,
And to block Time's forward way,
And to bind the arms of labour
'Neath a wilful despot's sway.
And she did so—for a twelvemonth
And a day. The storm was brewing,
Doomed to whelm the rash offender,
When God's hour was ripe for doing.
Short-lived was her hour of triumph,
Harsh command and lawless will;
Roaring cannon, blazing rafters,
Tumbling forts at Bunker Hill,

185

Spurred the breath they could not stifle;
Prick a lion, and he stands
Ten times lion, like a Titan
Flailing with a hundred hands.
From the South a cry resounded,
Manful pulse to pulse replied,
Nevermore to free-born brother
Be a brother's help denied!
And they made a league together,
And they sent their noblest son,
Tried in fight and tried in counsel,
Faithful-hearted Washington,
From his pleasant home at Vernon,
With fair prospect far and wide,
With rich stretch of wealthy culture,
With its amply-flowing tide.
Him they made their elect-captain,
Him they missioned sans delay,

186

With free-mustered bands to Boston's
Island-fretted ample bay.
There he watched, and there he waited,
With a firm and faithful caring,
Shaping cosmos from the chaos,
Till the hour was ripe for daring.
Then with swift assault unfearing,
Scaled a ridge above the bay,
And with iron hail tremendous,
Sent in startled disarray
Howe and Percy, and the boastful
Troop that crossed the Western waves,
With an arm of sharp compulsion
To teach freemen to be slaves.
Outward, Eastward, swiftly, swiftly,
Swiftlier than they came, they fled,
Nevermore in face of Boston's
Free-sworn front to lift their head!

187

War has many chances; not one
Swallow makes the spring, one bud
Not the summer. Born in sorrow
Sharply, and baptised in blood,
Grows the babe that makes the people;
Not one victory for the right
Could prevail to lop the crest
Of England, ever stiff in fight.
Howe was not a name to marry
With defeat and blank dismay;
Southward he would steer his warships,
With fresh hope and larger sway.
Where the strong son of the Highlands,
Hudson, rolls his ample flood,
He would stamp out the untutored
Growth of freedom in the bud.
In New York's fair water-belted,
Island-forted, busy mart,

188

He would rise from short prostration,
Strong to play the conqueror's part.
He would prove here that Old England,
Or with fair or adverse breeze,
In Pacific or Atlantic,
Ever knows to rule the seas.
And he did it. O'er Manhattan's
Long-drawn isle his might prevailed,
And at peaceful Philadelphia
Him the meek-souled Quakers hailed.
He hath wiped the blot of Boston
From his scutcheon. Delaware
And wide Hudson roll their floods,
To teach the West that Howe is there.
There indeed; but towns and rivers
Which proud England called her own,
Never cast a shade of shrinking
O'er the heart of Washington.

189

He had sworn to stand for freedom,
If not safely here, then there;
Hearts were brave, and men had mettle,
Westward of the Delaware.
Doubting oft, despairing never,
With a starved and shoeless host;
Firm in faith and wise in daring,
While he breathed all was not lost.
Never is the greatness greater
Than when dangers grimly swell,
Like a tide of mighty billows
Rushing, racing, fierce and fell.
Never is the bright hope brighter
In a God-devoted soul,
Than when clouds in massy volume
Blot the sky and blind the pole.
As a tiger in the jungle
Patient waits day after day,

190

Till the moment comes, then pounces
Sudden on his 'scapeless prey;
So Virginia's elect captain,
Wise to wait nor slow to dare,
With his band of true-sworn freemen
Eastward crossed the Delaware.
“Now, brave boys, be ready, ready,
Use the chance the moment brings;
When their strength is loosely scattered,
Now's the time to clip their wings!
“'Tis the day of Merry Christmas;
Through the river's chilly flow,
Through the snowdrift and the ice-blocks,
March we now against the foe,
“Merrily, merrily! Hireling Hessians,
Smoking, bousing, soon shall know
How to hold a bloody Christmas
When they face a patriot foe!”

191

So said, so done. The towers of Trenton
Nod submission to his word;
North from Trenton, on to Princeton,
All New Jersey's heart is stirred;
And the proud invading foeman
Shorn of hope, of glory bare,
And with wings well pruned, retreated
From the banks of Delaware.
Nor alone in reborn Jersey;
Freedom grew where Washington
Made the country and the river
Breathe a spirit all his own.
In the North at Saratoga,
Where the healthful water flows,
Boastful Burgoyne caught, in 'scapeless
Trap by many-circling foes,
Piled his arms in meek surrender;
And through all the banded States

192

Rose with firmer pulse the patriots'
Hope to greet the beckoning Fates.
Turn we now to Carolina,
On a softlier-nurtured folk,
Where Cornwallis and stout Hastings
Laid the sharply-galling yoke
For a season; but not longer;
Though they strewed the plains with death,
Ever from the free-souled Northland
Came the fresh reviving breath;
From the Northland, where the elect
Captain, hoping against hope,
Watched and waited for the moment
When his purpose might have scope.
And he found a friend to aid him
In the pressure of the hour,
France, that ever looked with jealous
Eye on England's branching power;

193

France he won to do his bidding,
That she sent in pennoned pride
Lines of bravely mounted war-ships
O'er the broad Atlantic tide,
With young Freedom to hold counsel,
And with common soul conspire,
How for England's castigation,
Saxon strength and Celtic fire
Might be banded. From the Hudson
Swift to move, and strong to dare,
To his own Virginian waters
Came the elect captain, there
With his presence to turn England's
Forward marches to retreat,
And strike the gyves through all the Southland
From young Freedom's sacred feet.
In a nook by long-drawn waters
Fenced around, as in a net,

194

How can brave Cornwallis slip
From Washington and Lafayette?
Like a baited beast in York Town,
With stout English heart he stands,
With redoubts and batteries many,
Restless raised by sleepless hands.
Vainly; as storm-clouds come creeping
Slowly, darkly from the West,
So the circling death-lines nearer
Came and nearer to his breast.
For three days and four the fatal
Fire-mouths bellowed round the town;
Rafters blazed, and towers of triple-
Forted strength came crashing down.
All the day was streaked with blackness,
Blotting beauty from the air;
All the night was bright with meteors,
Streaming with a deadly glare.

195

Nearer still and ever nearer
Came the stern avoidless lines,
Brighter still and still more bright
The flaring belt of terror shines.
Then, as storm-nursed waves Atlantic
Overlash the steep rock's crown,
So with fearless sweep the scalers
Clomb the walls and held the town.
Ever in the van of danger,
Cool and firm stood Washington,
Careless where a shot might wander,
If the work was bravely done.
Where he stood in an embrasure,
Open to a deathful shot,
One with friendly fear besought him
Back to step to safer spot.
“Seek your safety,” said the Captain,
“If it like you; I will not.

196

I will stand where honour calls me,
Though red Death may mark the spot.”
Thus he stood and thus he conquered,
With the strength that arms the free,
Till the stout heart of Cornwallis,
Vexed by land and vexed by sea,
Bowed his head in meek surrender,
And, from dreams of victory free,
Found a second Saratoga
Where York river seeks the sea.
Little now remained for Freedom's
Sons to do; the work was done
By the patient, long-enduring,
Steadfast faith of Washington.
There was talking much in London,
Much in Paris; but all knew
Freedom's cause was safe, while freemen
To their chief's high will were true.

197

Parleys and negotiations
Had their hour; with wisdom late,
Fretful king and fuming courtier
Signed the deed that sealed their fate.
On the banks of Hudson river,
When the peace-sworn foe was gone,
In New York, at Whitehall ferry,
Stood the noble Washington.
Not alone: in brothered sadness
Round him stood his comrades brave,
Who for eight long years of hardship,
Strong to suffer and to save,
Strove with him, and served him gladly,
As an angel serveth God,
Drawing strength from his sereneness,
Reaping victory from his nod.
And he spoke as one that could not,
Broken words, and slow to come;

198

Shallow grief delights in phrases,
Grief that holds the heart is dumb.
“Brim this glass,” he said, “brave brothers,
Here in wine, and here in tears—
Wine for the great joy that crowned us,
Tears for wounds that gashed the years.
“God be with you in your peaceful
Harvest, as He stood by you
When you sowed the seed of honour,
Watered with the bloody dew!”
And they came with head low drooping,
Each man, and with eyes all dim,
This last once to feel a brother's
Love in kindly grasp from him.
Not a word was spoken; silent
They; and silent he moved on,
Where a modest barge was waiting
For the noble Washington.

199

And with homeward heart he hied him
To the town of good Queen Anne,
Where the People's congress waited
To receive their Saviour-man.
And he came and stood before them,
As a modest servant stands,
And with few plain words he gave
His missioned power into their hands.
And they gave with solemn plainness
All the thanks that words could give;
And he went to sweet Mount Vernon,
As a plain man lives to live.
Some had been once that would make him
King, that he might grandly reign
O'er them like a Roman Cæsar;
But with high-souled proud disdain
Back he flung the base suggestion;
For his country he had fought,

200

He had gained his country's freedom,
That was all he wished or sought.
Not for gold, and not for glory,
He the thorny path had trod,
But in name of sacred duty
To his country and his God.
So he then; and now, as only
Lofty self-poised souls can do,
All the public pomp behind him
Like a cumbrous coat he threw.
Even as Roman Cincinnatus,
In the days when Rome was wise,
He would watch his old paternal
Acres with paternal eyes.
And he lived in homely sweetness,
Deeming pride the worst of sinning;
Planting, pruning, delving, draining,
From the soil its riches winning.

201

Ever on the work before him
Fixed with kindly-searching eyes,
Great in small things as in greatest,
And in daily service wise.
Till they brought him from his covert,

In the year 1789, a year doubly notable in the annals of modern history as at once the date of the outbreak of the great French Revolution, and the inauguration of the great Transatlantic Republic by the Presidency of George Washington.


To their march of storied fame,
To give grace and goodly omen
With the blazon of his name.