Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/126

Rh How a young cradled nation woke To grasp the glittering brand, And strangely raise the half-knit arm To brave the mother-land.

Those stormy days! those stormy days! When, with a fearful cry, The blood-stain'd earth at Lexington Invoked the avenging sky, When in the scarce-drawn furrow The farmer's plough was stay'd, And for the gardener's pruning-hook Sprang forth the warrior's blade.

The glorious deeds of Washington, The chiefs of other days! Another lip is silent now That used to speak their praise; Another link is stricken From the living chain that bound The legends of an ancient race Our thrilling hearts around.

We gaze on where the patriarchs stood In ripen'd virtue strong, How shall we dare to fill the place That they have fill'd so long? How on the bosoms of our race Enforce the truths they breathed, Or wear that mantle of the skies They to our souls bequeathed?