The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys Late Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States of America to the Court of Madrid |
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 | The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys |  |
Then weep thou orphan'd world! thy poignant grief
From nat'ral tears shall find a faint relief.
Ye choirs of children!—Washington is dead—
Have ye no sobs to heave, no tears to shed?
Unknowing your great loss, with chaplets come,
In robes of white, and strow with flow'rs his tomb!
Ye lovely virgins left to long despair,
With soften'd features and disorder'd hair,
The slow procession join! Ye matrons grave,
Who boast an offspring resolute and brave,
Swell with your moan the symphony of woe;
While youth and manhood teach their tears to flow!
Orphans!—your benefactor is no more—
A second parent lost, with pangs deplore!
Ye desolated widows, weep him dead,
Whose fleeces cloath'd you and whose harvests fed!
Ye his co-evals, whose dim west'ring sun
Nigh to that bourne, whence none returns, has run;
With parsimonious drops bedew his urn;
Ye go to him, but he will not return.
Stern-visag'd vet'rans, scorning threats and fears,
With death familiar, but unus'd to tears;
Ye who with him for independence fought,
And the rough work of revolution wrought;
Ye brave companions of his martial cares,
Inur'd to hardships, in his fame co-heirs;
Though in your eye the big tear stand represt,
Let sharper sorrow sting your manly breast!
To worlds unknown what friends have gone before!
The place that knew them, knows them now no more;
Your seats at annual feasts must be more bare,
Ev'n ye must be the wrecks of what ye were;
Till late, supported on his staff, appears
(Like some lone arch that braves a length of years)
One hoary MAN, all helpless, pale, unnerv'd,
The last alive with Washington who serv'd!
And ye, who oft his public counsels heard,
Admir'd his wisdom and his words rever'd;
Ye senators! let mourning's voice succeed,
And join the cry, “the mighty's fall'n indeed.”
From nat'ral tears shall find a faint relief.
Ye choirs of children!—Washington is dead—
Have ye no sobs to heave, no tears to shed?
Unknowing your great loss, with chaplets come,
In robes of white, and strow with flow'rs his tomb!
Ye lovely virgins left to long despair,
With soften'd features and disorder'd hair,
The slow procession join! Ye matrons grave,
Who boast an offspring resolute and brave,
Swell with your moan the symphony of woe;
While youth and manhood teach their tears to flow!
Orphans!—your benefactor is no more—
A second parent lost, with pangs deplore!
Ye desolated widows, weep him dead,
Whose fleeces cloath'd you and whose harvests fed!
Ye his co-evals, whose dim west'ring sun
Nigh to that bourne, whence none returns, has run;
With parsimonious drops bedew his urn;
Ye go to him, but he will not return.
Stern-visag'd vet'rans, scorning threats and fears,
With death familiar, but unus'd to tears;
Ye who with him for independence fought,
And the rough work of revolution wrought;
Ye brave companions of his martial cares,
Inur'd to hardships, in his fame co-heirs;
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Let sharper sorrow sting your manly breast!
To worlds unknown what friends have gone before!
The place that knew them, knows them now no more;
Your seats at annual feasts must be more bare,
Ev'n ye must be the wrecks of what ye were;
Till late, supported on his staff, appears
(Like some lone arch that braves a length of years)
One hoary MAN, all helpless, pale, unnerv'd,
The last alive with Washington who serv'd!
And ye, who oft his public counsels heard,
Admir'd his wisdom and his words rever'd;
Ye senators! let mourning's voice succeed,
And join the cry, “the mighty's fall'n indeed.”
Many solemn processions, in celebration of the funeral obsequies of General Washington, were made in divers cities, towns, and villages of the United States.
| The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys | |