Thank you for visiting SNEWPapers!
Sign up free
Poem
June 24, 1803
Berkeley And Jefferson Intelligencer
Martinsburg, Berkeley County, Virginia
What is this article about?
A narrative poem about a narrator encountering an elderly Revolutionary War veteran in poverty, who mourns his son killed at Monmouth and laments losing his government position due to political changes, highlighting ingratitude toward veterans.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
From the New-York Herald.
Hail universal philanthropy! Maid of celestial birth! twin-sister to modern philosophy! more than one brave man of 176 now feels thy benign goodness in the loss of his bread. Young Sandy.
THE WAR-WORN VETERAN.
Chill were the morning damps, the early star
Lost in the rising light his dewy beam,
I wandered in the wood-land lane afar,
T' indulge the matin thought and waking dream.
With reverence I approached a hoary seer
Who bending o'er his crutch, seemed lost in woe,
And many a sigh and many a sorrowing tear,
Spoke plain as words 'ah whither can I go?
Patch'd was his coarse attire: his legs were bare,
Scar'd were his cheeks, cold palsy shook his frame,
And silv'ry honours deck'd his dew damp hair,
And velvet, antiquated, hid his shame,
"Pray what could tempt thy wand'ring poor old man" I cried,
"Thus early? sure no common cause."
He started, wip'd a tear, and thus began;
Responsive, when he saw me weep, he sigh'd.
"In younger days, bent on my country's weal,
I've been where thund'ring cannon shook the plain,
(His kindling eyes now flash'd with youthful zeal)
And, if my country calls, I'll go again.
"My son" (tears stream'd afresh)
"was young, was brave,
He fell at Monmouth in the heat of fight,
And, clad in weeds, o'er his untimely grave,
I've groan'd away full many a tedious night.
My country knew me; and was grateful too;
An humble office fed my wife and me;
But when a change took place, I scorn'd to woo
The feet of power and new philosophy.
Hurl'd from my place by Power's unfeeling hand,
I griev'd—I lov'd my country and I lost my bread.
And now I roam a vagrant o'er the land
For which my son was lost, my blood was shed."
The truant cow boy whistled in the vale,
"I once was happy too," the Patriarch said.
My soul was melting o'er his piteous tale,
While with my hand I strok'd his hoary head.
Musing a while, he stood entranc'd and sad,
'Till hunger turn'd his eye from Heaven to me,
A poor half crown I gave, 'twas all I had,
"If I had more I'd gladly pay it thee."
"God bless thy feeling soul good youth!" he cry'd,
While grateful tears stole down his haggard face;
"God bless thee too!" my swelling heart replied,
Soft nature could no more I left the place.
Hail universal philanthropy! Maid of celestial birth! twin-sister to modern philosophy! more than one brave man of 176 now feels thy benign goodness in the loss of his bread. Young Sandy.
THE WAR-WORN VETERAN.
Chill were the morning damps, the early star
Lost in the rising light his dewy beam,
I wandered in the wood-land lane afar,
T' indulge the matin thought and waking dream.
With reverence I approached a hoary seer
Who bending o'er his crutch, seemed lost in woe,
And many a sigh and many a sorrowing tear,
Spoke plain as words 'ah whither can I go?
Patch'd was his coarse attire: his legs were bare,
Scar'd were his cheeks, cold palsy shook his frame,
And silv'ry honours deck'd his dew damp hair,
And velvet, antiquated, hid his shame,
"Pray what could tempt thy wand'ring poor old man" I cried,
"Thus early? sure no common cause."
He started, wip'd a tear, and thus began;
Responsive, when he saw me weep, he sigh'd.
"In younger days, bent on my country's weal,
I've been where thund'ring cannon shook the plain,
(His kindling eyes now flash'd with youthful zeal)
And, if my country calls, I'll go again.
"My son" (tears stream'd afresh)
"was young, was brave,
He fell at Monmouth in the heat of fight,
And, clad in weeds, o'er his untimely grave,
I've groan'd away full many a tedious night.
My country knew me; and was grateful too;
An humble office fed my wife and me;
But when a change took place, I scorn'd to woo
The feet of power and new philosophy.
Hurl'd from my place by Power's unfeeling hand,
I griev'd—I lov'd my country and I lost my bread.
And now I roam a vagrant o'er the land
For which my son was lost, my blood was shed."
The truant cow boy whistled in the vale,
"I once was happy too," the Patriarch said.
My soul was melting o'er his piteous tale,
While with my hand I strok'd his hoary head.
Musing a while, he stood entranc'd and sad,
'Till hunger turn'd his eye from Heaven to me,
A poor half crown I gave, 'twas all I had,
"If I had more I'd gladly pay it thee."
"God bless thy feeling soul good youth!" he cry'd,
While grateful tears stole down his haggard face;
"God bless thee too!" my swelling heart replied,
Soft nature could no more I left the place.
What sub-type of article is it?
Ballad
Elegy
What themes does it cover?
War Military
Political
Death Mourning
What keywords are associated?
War Veteran
Revolutionary War
Monmouth Battle
Veteran Poverty
Political Change
Patriotism
Loss Of Bread
What entities or persons were involved?
Young Sandy
Poem Details
Title
The War Worn Veteran.
Author
Young Sandy
Subject
The War Worn Veteran
Form / Style
Rhymed Quatrains
Key Lines
"In Younger Days, Bent On My Country's Weal,\Ni've Been Where Thund'ring Cannon Shook The Plain,\N(his Kindling Eyes Now Flash'd With Youthful Zeal)\Nand, If My Country Calls, I'll Go Again.
"My Son" (Tears Stream'd Afresh)\N"Was Young, Was Brave,\Nhe Fell At Monmouth In The Heat Of Fight,\Nand, Clad In Weeds, O'er His Untimely Grave,\Ni've Groan'd Away Full Many A Tedious Night.
Hurl'd From My Place By Power's Unfeeling Hand,\Ni Griev'd—I Lov'd My Country And I Lost My Bread.\Nand Now I Roam A Vagrant O'er The Land\Nfor Which My Son Was Lost, My Blood Was Shed."