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THE FORUM.
’
is o’er—the fatal hour has come,
The voice of eloquence is dumb,
Mute are the members of the Forum!
We’ve shed what tears we had to spare,
There now remains the pious care
Of chanting a sad requiem o’er ’em.
The Roman drank the Tiber’s wave,
Ilissus’ stream its virtues gave
To bid the Grecian live forever;
Our Forum orators a draught
Of greater potency have quaffed,
Sparkling and pure from the North River!
Proudly our bosoms beat to claim
Communion with our country’s fame
From Bunker’s Hill to Chippewa.
All who on battle-field or wave,
Have met the death that waits the brave,
Or pealed, above their foeman’s grave,
The victor’s wild hurrah!
