 | The national jubilee, and other miscellaneous poems |  |
AN ADDRESS
Written for the Walnut-st. Theatre, Philadelphia, 1828.
(REJECTED.)
In ages past when Ignorance sway'd the world,
And Superstition his dark flag unfurl'd,
Celestial Genius from his hallow'd porch,
Was tyrant driven—the conflagrating torch
Consum'd the sacred temple where he dwelt—
And where, with reverence to the Muse he knelt;
Our art was mock'd at with contemptuous sneer,
And Persecution's bloody hand was near!
And Superstition his dark flag unfurl'd,
Celestial Genius from his hallow'd porch,
Was tyrant driven—the conflagrating torch
Consum'd the sacred temple where he dwelt—
And where, with reverence to the Muse he knelt;
Our art was mock'd at with contemptuous sneer,
And Persecution's bloody hand was near!
Lo Science dawn'd at length—the darkness broke—
And, by degrees, was loos'd Oppression's yoke.
The ebon mace from Ignorance was wrench'd,
And Superstition's cruel torch was quench'd;
The earth was sprinkled with a dew from heaven,
Ennobling passions to the heart were given.
The eye that lower'd and chill'd our action dead,
Grew bright—and o'er each scene a radiance shed.
And, by degrees, was loos'd Oppression's yoke.
The ebon mace from Ignorance was wrench'd,
And Superstition's cruel torch was quench'd;
The earth was sprinkled with a dew from heaven,
Ennobling passions to the heart were given.
The eye that lower'd and chill'd our action dead,
Grew bright—and o'er each scene a radiance shed.
Here by your smiles shall Genius prune his wing,
And ope the fountains whence the passions spring;
But lo, this temple desert will remain,
Like the bare rock upon the sultry plain,
Till quicken'd into life by Moses' rod,
When in abundance gush'd the gladdening flood—
Yea, like this rock, 'twill desolated stand,
Till you shall stretch your animating hand,
And bid its fountains cheer the thirsty land,—
Fountains—at which the soul may largely quaff
To start the tear—or raise the comic laugh—
Or bid the patriot for his country die,
When traitors plot to sap our liberty!
And ope the fountains whence the passions spring;
But lo, this temple desert will remain,
Like the bare rock upon the sultry plain,
Till quicken'd into life by Moses' rod,
When in abundance gush'd the gladdening flood—
35
Till you shall stretch your animating hand,
And bid its fountains cheer the thirsty land,—
Fountains—at which the soul may largely quaff
To start the tear—or raise the comic laugh—
Or bid the patriot for his country die,
When traitors plot to sap our liberty!
Yes, in this temple, it shall be our aim
To excite our youth to honourable fame—
To feel the spirit that their fathers felt,
When they to Liberty devoutly knelt.
Thorns shall be seen to overspread the way,
When serpent vice may triumph for a day.
Virtue may suffer, but the heart shall tell,
The proud sublimity of suffering well!
To excite our youth to honourable fame—
To feel the spirit that their fathers felt,
When they to Liberty devoutly knelt.
Thorns shall be seen to overspread the way,
When serpent vice may triumph for a day.
Virtue may suffer, but the heart shall tell,
The proud sublimity of suffering well!
Our art shall be to show the coxcomb vain—
The miser wretched midst his sumless gain—
The faithless lover tortur'd with remorse—
The traitor blacken'd with a nation's curse—
The gamester frenzied with despair, chagrin,
Shall show the passions' hurricane within.
The oppressor of the poor—the insidious friend—
The grovelling sycophant at names to bend,
And for a smile to meanest acts descend,—
Shall he detested in their outline here,
Till hate and score shall on the brow appear.
The miser wretched midst his sumless gain—
The faithless lover tortur'd with remorse—
The traitor blacken'd with a nation's curse—
The gamester frenzied with despair, chagrin,
Shall show the passions' hurricane within.
The oppressor of the poor—the insidious friend—
The grovelling sycophant at names to bend,
And for a smile to meanest acts descend,—
Shall he detested in their outline here,
Till hate and score shall on the brow appear.
These vices we'll expose with truth's effect,
That youth their wayward follies may correct;
And for their guide, in virtue to excel,
We'll place before them the illustrious Tell—
Warm through their veins a patriot glow shall run,
And hail with tears, the shade of WASHINGTON.
That youth their wayward follies may correct;
And for their guide, in virtue to excel,
We'll place before them the illustrious Tell—
Warm through their veins a patriot glow shall run,
And hail with tears, the shade of WASHINGTON.
36
Here the sweet solace of the female breast,
In all its loveliness shall be express'd—
They, when the heart is overwhelm'd with grief,
Shall stand like angels ministering relief—
Yes, in its beauty virtue shall appear,
To win th' affectiens of the soul sincere.
In all its loveliness shall be express'd—
They, when the heart is overwhelm'd with grief,
Shall stand like angels ministering relief—
Yes, in its beauty virtue shall appear,
To win th' affectiens of the soul sincere.
The pencil too shall with our art unite
To copy nature, and afford delight,
That more effective we the heart may reach,
And faithful morals to the nation teach.
To copy nature, and afford delight,
That more effective we the heart may reach,
And faithful morals to the nation teach.
Yet still without your approbating smile,
We cannot hope the sordid to beguile
To virtue's rugged path—or him arrest,
That hugs the serpent Pleasure to his breast—
Or bid the virtuous by example given,
While on the billows of affection driven,
To keep their eye upon the star of heaven.
We cannot hope the sordid to beguile
To virtue's rugged path—or him arrest,
That hugs the serpent Pleasure to his breast—
Or bid the virtuous by example given,
While on the billows of affection driven,
To keep their eye upon the star of heaven.
We now to you this temple dedicate—
The power is yours to make it bless the state,
Guard, watch its scenes with a paternal care,—
You'll hiss the sentiment that holds a snare—
Applaud a noble action when express'd,
That it may dwell a jewel in the breast;
That when our youth to manhood's port shall rise,
That they, with rapture streaming from the eyes,
May publish to the world that here they first
Received the noble impulse to be just.
The power is yours to make it bless the state,
Guard, watch its scenes with a paternal care,—
You'll hiss the sentiment that holds a snare—
Applaud a noble action when express'd,
That it may dwell a jewel in the breast;
That when our youth to manhood's port shall rise,
That they, with rapture streaming from the eyes,
May publish to the world that here they first
Received the noble impulse to be just.
Should future tongues this sentiment repeat—
Hope thrills the promise to our bosoms sweet!
'Twill give our varying scenes a brighter glow,
And make our blood in dancing measures flow.
Hope thrills the promise to our bosoms sweet!
'Twill give our varying scenes a brighter glow,
And make our blood in dancing measures flow.
| The national jubilee, and other miscellaneous poems | |