The Rhode Island American, And General Advertiser

Original Poetry
FOR THE RHODE-ISLAND AMERICAN,

THE TEMPLE OF VIRTUE.
FRAGMENT.

Procul, O procul, este profani.....VIRGIL.

Far from these walls and hallowed shrine,
Ye sons of vice and pride, depart;
And dread the flaming wrath divine,
Which burns against the guilty heart.

Sons of Ambition, shun this place
Nor bend your bloody footsteps near
For deeds of murder find no grace,
Hear no approving sentence here.

And far depart, ye motley crew,
Who bow to Fashion's changing rules
Virtue has form'd no place for you,
She scorns the sacrifice of fools.

This spake the Trump's swelling notes
Pour'd from the Temple's vaulted dome
But soon a milder music floats,
And bids the friends of virtue come.

Haste and approach these sacred walls
All you who Vice and Folly scorn :
Attend, your parent Goddess calls
Come and her hallowed courts adorn.

Come you, who, at your country's call
Have dared the blood crimsoned plain
Hers in the, Patriot's glorious hall,
In Virtue's Temple ever reign.

Next these: I place that honest man
Who scorn'd to take a Faction's part
And, in the Legislative clan, :
Still spake the feelings of his heart

And hither haste ye private good,
Who moved in less Exalted sphere,
And bore the taunts of nobler blood-
I hail you as my children here.

The music ceas'd; and at that gate.
A numerous, various throng appear'd :
In different garb: the suppliant, wait
In different tongues their pleas are heard.

First at the shrine a warrior form
Appear'd, and frowning urg'd his claim;
Told how he dar'd the murd'rous storm:
And gain'd in blood a deathless Fame.

Loud muttering thunders roll'd around
And lightnings drove him from the shrine
The Statue of the Goddess frown'd
And beam'd with majesty Divine.

Depart from hence, ye sons of blood
Ye murderers of the brave and good
Be lost in never-ending night.

Next came a form majestic mild:
Deliberation on his brow
His face with heavenly radiance smil'd
As to the shrine he banded low,

For thee, oh Goddess fair, he said
I sail'd adown the stream of life,
Nor, till my wretched country bled
Adventur'd in the fields of strife.

No wild Ambition stir'd my breast.
I fought to make my Country free
I never bow'd to Vice's control,
My life was dedicated to thee.

The Goddess heard, and bade her train
Of Seraph forms their clarions fill
And pour the swelling lofty strain
Eternal in the Patriot's praise:

And haste, she said, a garland from
With laurels weave the verdant round
And let the meed of deathless fame
Upon the Warrior's brow be bound

Let him within my courts abide,
My most approv'd, my noblest son
Here place forever by my side
This Patriot, Hero, WASHINGTON.