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 |  |
And ye, compatriots! who for freedom fought,
Preserve that prize your toil and blood have bought.
(Fraternal troop long tried by storms of fate,
Surviving soldiers of my native state,
From me your cherish'd image ne'er shall part,
'Till death's cold hand shall wring it from my heart!)
Heav'ns! how your fields were heap'd with kindred slain,
While many a stream ran crimson to the main!
Where a new Thames distain'd with carnage flow'd,
How the sea redden'd to receive the load?
How Danb'ry's burning turrets dimm'd the day,
How Fairfield, Norwalk, dark in ashes lay?
Ye tearless saw your coasts to deserts turn'd,
Your substance pillag'd, and your buildings burn'd;
Your flocks and herds become th' invaders' spoil,
And the fair harvest ravish'd from the soil.
Ye saw th' infuriate foe, with impious ire,
Consume Jehovah's hallow'd fanes in fire.
What Gothic rage assail'd the muses' seat,
And hunted science in her lov'd retreat?
Her very porch
with vital purple stain'd,
Her courts polluted and her shrine prophan'd!
'Twas then th' obstrep'rous drum, th' ear-tinkling fife,
Pierc'd the still shades of academic life;
There Tryon left on ruins, mark'd with flame,
A dread memorial of his hated name.
Preserve that prize your toil and blood have bought.
(Fraternal troop long tried by storms of fate,
Surviving soldiers of my native state,
From me your cherish'd image ne'er shall part,
'Till death's cold hand shall wring it from my heart!)
Heav'ns! how your fields were heap'd with kindred slain,
While many a stream ran crimson to the main!
Where a new Thames distain'd with carnage flow'd,
How the sea redden'd to receive the load?
How Danb'ry's burning turrets dimm'd the day,
How Fairfield, Norwalk, dark in ashes lay?
Ye tearless saw your coasts to deserts turn'd,
Your substance pillag'd, and your buildings burn'd;
Your flocks and herds become th' invaders' spoil,
And the fair harvest ravish'd from the soil.
Ye saw th' infuriate foe, with impious ire,
Consume Jehovah's hallow'd fanes in fire.
What Gothic rage assail'd the muses' seat,
And hunted science in her lov'd retreat?
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Her courts polluted and her shrine prophan'd!
'Twas then th' obstrep'rous drum, th' ear-tinkling fife,
Pierc'd the still shades of academic life;
There Tryon left on ruins, mark'd with flame,
A dread memorial of his hated name.
| The miscellaneous works of David Humphreys | |