The Madisonian

On The Death Of Gen. William Henry Harrison,
Late President Of The U. S.
- By J. H. Hewitt, of Baltimore,
The wail hath gone forth o'er the land of the free,
And the heart of the patriot chills at the cry:
Our banner hangs lowly o'er land and o'er sea,
And the name of the hero is breathed with a sigh.
And hark! from the distance the heavy guns boom,
They once belch'd their thunder and flame on the foe;
And the iron-tongue knells out its music of gloom,
While the sturdy heart quails at the requiem of woe.
From the confines of Maine to the Sabine's wild flood,
From Atlantic's broad waves to the peaks of the West,
Shall the wail of a nation fill valley and wood,
And the hand of the freeman smite hard on his breast.
He stood like a monarch oak, breasting the storm,
Which party had raised round the spot where it grew,
Unmoved were its branches, unshaken its form,
By the lightnings that flashed, or the whirlwind that blew.
The proud ship of state on a turbulent sea,
Like a feather was toss'd, while tempests o'erwhelm,
The crew look'd aghast at the rocks on her lee,
But Hope beam'd again when the sage took the helm.
The old man has gone-rich in honor and years.
A long life of glory, though still far too brief;
His foes are now silent--his friends are in tears,
And the rancor of party is smothered in grief.
Let him rest-let him rest, for the struggle is o'er,
The Giver of all hath sent forth his decree;
His voice shall be heard in our Councils no more,
But his epitaph's writ in the heart of the free.