Daily National Intelligencer

The following lines, by a youth of the Georgetown College, are communicated with a request that we would give them a place in our paper.

LINES, suggested by a visit to Mount Vernon.
BY A STUDENT OF GEORGETOWN COLLEGE.

Twas morning splendor's loveliest garb arrayed,
The dancing sun-beams through the zephyrs played ;
By nature's voice awak'd from balmy dreams,
They kissed their image in the glassy streams.
Each object smiled: with magic glow'd the scene ;
The landscape lived, and wore a robe serene.
The boat received its mirthful freight, with glee,
And , like the courser struggling to be free,
To bear its burden to the destined place ;
So she with steamy impulse longs to race.
So the swift sea-horse, with impatient flame,
And eager feet, paws quick the yielding stream.
In it embarked gay mirth and lovely joy ;
The festive hour was mixt with no alloy.
Sweet pleasure laugh'd the sportive time away,
And music crown'd the honors of the day ;
Fair music swept the notes of heavenly glee,
And cheer'd our spirits with her harmony.
The nymph descended from her native sky.
Dispell'd all cares—e'en grief forgot to sigh ;
She breath'd her notes delightful far around.
Responsive echoes answer to the sound.
The bugle sends its numbers o'er the plain,
The mimic bugle sounds those notes again ;
The muse was there ; and oft some favored bard,
Weaving poetic laurels, there appeared.
What power of language will some nymph bestow,
To paint the beauty nature's traces show,
While sprinkling on Potomac's banks her green
While smiling flowers harmonize the scene:
The wood-land songsters animate the trees,
The vocal bowers there wed the cooling breeze
The stately bridge walks with gigantic pace
Across the silvery liquid's glittering face ;
The huge portcullis opes its jaws on high, :
To let the vessel and its freight pass by,
Then soon appears, frowning on the silver tide,
The fort, whose name fills every breast with pride
High on its verdant throne, in awful state, repose
Its ramparts firm, defying storms and foes ;
No enemy shall dare thy force to brave,
But deep shall sink beneath the chrystal wave ;
Thy thunder hurl'd on each assailing power
Shall deep incarnadine the flood with gore.
Thou, lovely Vernon ! riding on the stream,
Next claim'st to be the subject of my theme.
Seat of the brave ! may I your praises sing ?
Ol ! may I tell what rapturing thoughts you bring
What throbs thou whisper'st in the Patriot's mind.
Thou land, that gave our hero to mankind ?
Unequal to the task, the feeble muse
Thy rural grandeur silent must peruse.
The boat approaches to the wished-for shore,
The sandy beach we joyfully explore.
The solemn music tuned a mournful lay,
Then through the woods we took our pensive way ;
Then went to gaze upon the hallowed tomb,
Where slumber'd nature's pride, Columbia's bloom.
Our palpitating hearts beat hard our breasts
To see the turf 'neath which our hero rests.
To share the tomb prepared by fame for thee,
O hero ! soon we'd share thy destiny.
When tyranny would bind in chains our world
You valiant rose, and back the tyrant hurled,
Triumphant victory crowned the patriot flame,—
Ages shall gild thy ever-blooming name.
Haste, haste, ye nymphs ! your choicest flowers bring
Haste, haste, ye nymphs! your funeral dirges sing.
In one illustrious wreath blend all your power,
And on the victor's tomb your praises shower.
Raise high your notes, and then exulting cry,
" This is his grave—his monument the sky !"

June 9th, 1819.
E. B.