Shall say, with eager fingers pointing thus,
"Behold those men!—their sunn'd but thoughtful brows:
Their sinewy limbs; their broad and portly chests,
Lapp'd in their native vestments, rude but graceful!—
Those be our hardy brothers of the north;—
The bold and generous race, who have, beneath
The frozen circle and the burning line,
The rights and freedom of our native land
Undauntedly maintain'd."
That day will come,
When in the grave this hoary head of mine,
And many after heads, in death are laid;
And happier men, our sons, shall live to see it.
O may they prize it too with grateful hearts!
And, looking back on these our stormy days
Of other years, pity, admire, and pardon
The fierce, contentious, ill-directed valour
Of gallant fathers, born in darker times!
(The Curtain drops.)
