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180

ODE

To the President, On his visiting the Northern States.

BY THE SAME.

The Season sheds its mildest ray,
O'er the blue waves the sun-beams play,
The bending harvest gilds the plain,
The tow'ring vessels press the main,
The ruddy ploughman quits his toil,
The pall'd miser leaves his spoil,
And grateful pæans hail the festive year,
Which bids Columbia's guardian God appear.
Hence! DISAPPOINTMENT'S anxious eye,
And pale AFFLICTION'S ling'ring sigh;
Let sorrow from the brow be torn,
And ev'ry heart forget to mourn;
Let smiles of peace their charms display
To grace this joy-devoted day,
And, where that arm preserv'd the peopled plain,
Shall mild Contentment hold her placid reign.
Let “white rob'd choirs” in beauty gay
With lucid flowrets strew the way,
Let Lilachs scent the purpled lawn,
And roses emulate the dawn,
Let domes their circling honors spread,
And wreaths entwine that glorious head;
To thee, Great Washington, each lyre be strung,
Thy matchless deeds by ev'ry bard be sung!

181

When Freedom rais'd her drooping head,
Thy arm her willing heros led,
When all her hopes, to thee resign'd,
Were resting on thy god-like mind,
How did that soul, to fear unknown,
And feeling for her fate alone,
O'er Danger's threat'ning form the faulchion wield,
And tread with dauntless step the crimson field!
Not Decius—patriot dear to fame!
Not Cincinnatus—deathless name!
Not HE, who led the Athenian band,
The saviour of a bleeding land,
Could such exalted worth display,
Nor shine with such unclouded ray.
Of Age the Hope, of Youth the leading Star,
The Soul of Peace, the conquering Arm of War.
 

Themistocles.