 | Poems by St. John Honeywood . |  |
96
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MAJOR WYLLYS,
Of the Federal Troops, who fell in an engagement with the Savages at the River St. Joseph, in the Western Territory of the United States.
Where the sack'd hamlet darts expiring gleams,
Through smould'ring clouds; and thy encrimson'd streams,
Wabash! slow rolling to the western bourne,
Thy slaughter'd sons in sullen murmurs mourn;
There, if e'er chance the traveller shall lead,
The blood drench'd shore with rev'rence let him tread,
And mark the spot where oft at eve unseen
The weeping Genii plant the laurel green,
And Fancy bids her choicest flowrets rise
To deck the lonely grave where Wyllys lies.
Through smould'ring clouds; and thy encrimson'd streams,
Wabash! slow rolling to the western bourne,
Thy slaughter'd sons in sullen murmurs mourn;
There, if e'er chance the traveller shall lead,
The blood drench'd shore with rev'rence let him tread,
And mark the spot where oft at eve unseen
The weeping Genii plant the laurel green,
And Fancy bids her choicest flowrets rise
To deck the lonely grave where Wyllys lies.
If polish'd manners, undisguised by art,
The tenderest feelings, and the firmest heart,
Where lavish heav'n united every grace
To the mild virtues of the Wyllys race:
If worth, long tried, distinguish'd and approv'd,
Could move the tyrant Death, or e'er had mov'd,
Thy valued life had known a longer date,
Nor savage yells announc'd thy hapless fate.
The tenderest feelings, and the firmest heart,
97
To the mild virtues of the Wyllys race:
If worth, long tried, distinguish'd and approv'd,
Could move the tyrant Death, or e'er had mov'd,
Thy valued life had known a longer date,
Nor savage yells announc'd thy hapless fate.
A Bard, the meanest of the tuneful throng,
Whose idle lyre has long remain'd unstrung,
Who lov'd thee living, and regrets thee dead,
Pays this last tribute to thy gentle shade.
Th' historic Muse, in more exalted verse,
May thus to future times thy fate rehearse:
From England's gentlest blood, an honour'd name,
In virtues, arts and arms long known to fame,
He sprung: where Hartford crowns, with spiry pride,
Her gay romantic banks and crystal tide,
His infant sports and happier hours were led,
Till Yale's fair laurels grac'd his youthful head.
What time the Briton, to our guiltless shore,
In proud array, his thund'ring legions bore;
When erst Columbia's starry flag unfurl'd,
Show'd a new eagle to the wond'ring world,
The gallant youth appear'd at Freedom's shrine,
Drew his yet unstained sword, and join'd the embattled line:
There in long toils, and dangers tried, he won
Th' approving smiles of god-like Washington!
With tarnish'd arms the Britons sought the main,
And heav'n-born Peace resum'd her golden reign.
The patriot bands, reliev'd from martial toil,
Return and court the long-neglected soil:
Severer cares his warrior arms engage,
To guard the western realm, and quell barbarian rage;
And lo! on wild Miami's dusky plain,
O'er slaughter'd heaps, he leads his victor train;
There, as the foe in trembling haste retires,
In Glory's arms the gallant chief expires.
Whose idle lyre has long remain'd unstrung,
Who lov'd thee living, and regrets thee dead,
Pays this last tribute to thy gentle shade.
Th' historic Muse, in more exalted verse,
May thus to future times thy fate rehearse:
From England's gentlest blood, an honour'd name,
In virtues, arts and arms long known to fame,
He sprung: where Hartford crowns, with spiry pride,
Her gay romantic banks and crystal tide,
His infant sports and happier hours were led,
Till Yale's fair laurels grac'd his youthful head.
What time the Briton, to our guiltless shore,
In proud array, his thund'ring legions bore;
98
Show'd a new eagle to the wond'ring world,
The gallant youth appear'd at Freedom's shrine,
Drew his yet unstained sword, and join'd the embattled line:
There in long toils, and dangers tried, he won
Th' approving smiles of god-like Washington!
With tarnish'd arms the Britons sought the main,
And heav'n-born Peace resum'd her golden reign.
The patriot bands, reliev'd from martial toil,
Return and court the long-neglected soil:
Severer cares his warrior arms engage,
To guard the western realm, and quell barbarian rage;
And lo! on wild Miami's dusky plain,
O'er slaughter'd heaps, he leads his victor train;
There, as the foe in trembling haste retires,
In Glory's arms the gallant chief expires.
Columbians rise! no more inactive lie,
Your slaughter'd friends for speedy vengeance cry:
Their mangled corses, and yet teeming blood,
Their groans yet echoing in the western wood;
The matron's piercing shriek, the infant's cries,
And yon brown cloud slow rising to the skies,
Call to revenge—to arms! to arms repair!
Urge home the ruthless brood, and wage eternal war.
On those curst miscreants, whom no faith can bind,
The scourge of God! the terror of mankind!
Then let the vengeful bolts of war be hurl'd,
And with black myriads crowd th' infernal world!
Your slaughter'd friends for speedy vengeance cry:
99
Their groans yet echoing in the western wood;
The matron's piercing shriek, the infant's cries,
And yon brown cloud slow rising to the skies,
Call to revenge—to arms! to arms repair!
Urge home the ruthless brood, and wage eternal war.
On those curst miscreants, whom no faith can bind,
The scourge of God! the terror of mankind!
Then let the vengeful bolts of war be hurl'd,
And with black myriads crowd th' infernal world!
| Poems by St. John Honeywood . | |