Till join�d in vassalage to sacred laws, Our oracle directs, one centre draws 55 Till all-embracing policy imparts Her harmony to distant, motley parts Till every scatter�d tribe, from end to end, Be taught in peaceful unity to blend. War springs afresh�rekindled flames arise, 50 And back the ghastly train of thraldom hies No liberty, no life, no blest repose, No self-preserving acts his country knows. In wide-dissevered realms new factions grow, And call from far, or procreate the foe. �Twas vain that rescued from a tyrant�s hand, Sweet Liberty, consol�d his natal land 45 For brief her stay where discord breathes her spell And not on hostile bounds she deigns to dwell. Triumphal wreaths far rather ought to wave, And laureate honors bloom around his grave Far rather should ascend our hymns of praise To Heaven, who gave him health and length of days 35 Whose arm was seen amidst the deadly fray, To open for his sword victorious way Who turn�d aside from him the fateful ball, And bade the steel on meaner crests to fall Who gave him for our guide, with steadfast eye, 40 O�er stormy waves, beneath a troublous sky And life dispens�d, till War�s loud tempest o�er, He safely steer�d our barque to peaceful shore.
But why lament the close of his career? There is no cause-no cause that asks a tear Fate gives to mortal life a narrow span, 30 And he, our guide and friend, was still a man. You are not call�d to view, bereft of life, By dread compulsion seized, your child or wife, To view a parent's feeble lamp expire But WASHINGTON IS DEAD, his country�s fire! 15 Not for your children�s friend your tears must fall, For WASHINGTON IS DEAD, the friend of all! Not singly we, who haunt this western shore, Our parent, guardian, guide, and friend deplore Nor those alone who breathe this ambient air, 20 Are call�d to weep at this illustrious bier: Each wat�ry bourne of this great globe afar, Was brighten�d by this tutelary Star! Each future age, through wide-extended earth, Like us, may triumph in his hour of birth 25 Each age to him, its grateful dues may pay, And join with us to mourn his fun�ral day. Monody On the Death of George Washington Delivered at the New-York Theatre on Monday Evening, date value=�>DecemNo mimic accents now shall touch your ears, And now no fabled woe demand your tears No hero of a visionary age, No child of poet's phrenzy walks the stage 5 'Tis no phantastic spate of Queens or Kings, That bids your sympathy onlock its springs This woe is yours, it falls on every head This woe is yours, for WASHINGTON IS DEAD! No passing grief it is, no private woe, 10 That bids the universal sorrow flow.
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