 | [Ode, in] A memorial of Ulysses S. Grant from the city of Boston |  |
67
ODE.
Great Freedom! Maid divinely born,
Thine was the Champion that we mourn,
Thou, guest of triumph and delight,
Attend to-day our funeral rite.
Thine was the Champion that we mourn,
Thou, guest of triumph and delight,
Attend to-day our funeral rite.
68
When in thy cause our fathers bled,
Rebellion raised her angry head,
And Civil War, with mailéd hand,
Smote at the beauty of the land;
Rebellion raised her angry head,
And Civil War, with mailéd hand,
Smote at the beauty of the land;
And many a chieftain came and went,
With thought perplexéd, ill content
To lead his troops with faltering breath
Deep in the glittering toils of death;
With thought perplexéd, ill content
To lead his troops with faltering breath
Deep in the glittering toils of death;
And many a household ope'd its door
To one whose lips should move no more:
The arrow rankling in its breast,
That sped that silent, solemn guest.
To one whose lips should move no more:
The arrow rankling in its breast,
That sped that silent, solemn guest.
But when our greatest need was near,
We heard a sudden cry of cheer
That rolled and deepened. Could it be?
It was the shout of victory.
We heard a sudden cry of cheer
That rolled and deepened. Could it be?
It was the shout of victory.
For on the field a master-hand
Marshalled and led the patriot band;
And, in an order grand and bold,
The din was hushed, the strife controlled.
Marshalled and led the patriot band;
And, in an order grand and bold,
The din was hushed, the strife controlled.
Unblest the hands that loosed afar
The dreadful enginery of war!
Thrice blesséd he who marched amain
To bring us holy peace again.
The dreadful enginery of war!
Thrice blesséd he who marched amain
To bring us holy peace again.
A conqueror crowned for deeds of might,
But happiest in the victor's might,
When the strong arm that dealt the blow
Might lift and help the prostrate foe.
But happiest in the victor's might,
When the strong arm that dealt the blow
Might lift and help the prostrate foe.
Rest with thy laurels, generous chief!
Lamented with a nation's grief,
Remembered with such grateful praise
As heralds thee to distant days.
Lamented with a nation's grief,
Remembered with such grateful praise
As heralds thee to distant days.
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Released from struggle to sweet sleep,
May loving hearts thy vigils keep,
While Faith's sure promise seals for thee
The last surpassing victory.
May loving hearts thy vigils keep,
While Faith's sure promise seals for thee
The last surpassing victory.
| [Ode, in] A memorial of Ulysses S. Grant from the city of Boston | |