 | My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays |  |
TO THE HON. JOHN JAY.
Formed, through the paths of fame to move,
Graced by a grateful people's love—
Whether the helm of state to guide,
Or bid the storm of war subside,
Or to the clement virtues dear,
From Afric catch the falling tear,
Or with a voice whose dulcet strain,
Might charm to peace the phrenzied brain—
O'er the stern courts of law preside,
Nor seem to lean on mercy's side;
Or in thy soft retirement blest,
Feel all the father warm thy breast—
Thine is high honour's noblest cause,
And thine the summit of applause.
Graced by a grateful people's love—
Whether the helm of state to guide,
Or bid the storm of war subside,
Or to the clement virtues dear,
From Afric catch the falling tear,
Or with a voice whose dulcet strain,
Might charm to peace the phrenzied brain—
O'er the stern courts of law preside,
As Chief Justice of the S. J. Court of the United States.
These Lines were first impelled by the circumstance of the Honourable Mr. Jay's having lost his Election to the Chair of Government, through the manœuvres of an exasperated Party counteracting the Choice of the People—which choice was indisputably established at the next Trial.
Nor seem to lean on mercy's side;
Or in thy soft retirement blest,
Feel all the father warm thy breast—
Thine is high honour's noblest cause,
And thine the summit of applause.
What though a party's fraudful sway
Would rend thy civic crown away,
To thee a nobler hope extends,
For thee, the patriot prayer ascends,
On thee, the honoured suffrage falls,
For thee, the sacred people calls;
Yet blushing science quits her strain,
Silenced, and seeking thee, in vain.
So when the midnight's vapoury breath,
In clouds obscures the sylvan heath,
No peals of music cheer the vale,
No floweret scents the freshening gale,
Till the bright sun, with sovereign sway,
Strikes through the gloom, and leads the day.
Would rend thy civic crown away,
To thee a nobler hope extends,
For thee, the patriot prayer ascends,
140
For thee, the sacred people calls;
Yet blushing science quits her strain,
Silenced, and seeking thee, in vain.
So when the midnight's vapoury breath,
In clouds obscures the sylvan heath,
No peals of music cheer the vale,
No floweret scents the freshening gale,
Till the bright sun, with sovereign sway,
Strikes through the gloom, and leads the day.
| My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays | |