This page needs to be proofread.
34
PEYTON SHORT SYMMES.
[1820–30.
Should now a thankless world deny the claim!
And yet, when in our councils lately rose
The voice of sympathy for Grecian woes,
The noblest efforts of her champions failed,—
And cold mistrust o'er eloquence prevailed!
And yet, when in our councils lately rose
The voice of sympathy for Grecian woes,
The noblest efforts of her champions failed,—
And cold mistrust o'er eloquence prevailed!
Yet, though our cautious country may not send
Her fleet, the cause of freedom to defend,—
Lest allied jealousy the act should view
As fraught with danger to the kingly crew:—
Though by our statesmen it is deemed unsafe
The angry lions in their lair to chafe,—
Lest we should rouse them to a nimbler leap.
O'er the rude surges of the "vasty deep,"
And find too late, by savage force o'er-powered,
We are not ev'n the last to be devoured:—
Though neither Turkish faith nor Moslem laws
Must be invaded—ev'n in the sacred cause
Which aims to rescue from enthralling chains,
Heroic millions,—in whose fervid veins
The swelling current of the patriot flows,—
In whose proud hearts the Spartan's ardor glows:
Though nothing now, alas ! she dares to give
To her who nobly scorns in chains to live!—
Still may each kindred spirit plead her cause,
Nor wait the lingering sanction of our laws;—
Still may our Thespian band the tribute pay,
Which from the ruthless spoiler rends his prey;
And waft to that loved land the drama's aid,
Amid whose groves the young Thalia strayed,
And all the tuneful nine their earliest powers displayed.
Nor shall the boon be lost;—though small the sum,
'Twill nerve the warrior's arm when perils come.
To know a Christian people's prayers arise.
With hope-inspiring ardor, to the skies,—
That heaven's almighty arm may interpose,
And Greece be rescued from her direst foes!
Her fleet, the cause of freedom to defend,—
Lest allied jealousy the act should view
As fraught with danger to the kingly crew:—
Though by our statesmen it is deemed unsafe
The angry lions in their lair to chafe,—
Lest we should rouse them to a nimbler leap.
O'er the rude surges of the "vasty deep,"
And find too late, by savage force o'er-powered,
We are not ev'n the last to be devoured:—
Though neither Turkish faith nor Moslem laws
Must be invaded—ev'n in the sacred cause
Which aims to rescue from enthralling chains,
Heroic millions,—in whose fervid veins
The swelling current of the patriot flows,—
In whose proud hearts the Spartan's ardor glows:
Though nothing now, alas ! she dares to give
To her who nobly scorns in chains to live!—
Still may each kindred spirit plead her cause,
Nor wait the lingering sanction of our laws;—
Still may our Thespian band the tribute pay,
Which from the ruthless spoiler rends his prey;
And waft to that loved land the drama's aid,
Amid whose groves the young Thalia strayed,
And all the tuneful nine their earliest powers displayed.
Nor shall the boon be lost;—though small the sum,
'Twill nerve the warrior's arm when perils come.
To know a Christian people's prayers arise.
With hope-inspiring ardor, to the skies,—
That heaven's almighty arm may interpose,
And Greece be rescued from her direst foes!
POETIC ADDRESS.[1]
By nature's holiest sympatliies impress'd
With final reverence swelling in each breast,
We meet to-day around the festive board—
With more than viands, and libations stored:
Here memory comes, through time's dim vail to cast
Her varied lights and shadows o'er the past;
And hope amid the joyous group appears.
To gild the visions of our future years!
With final reverence swelling in each breast,
We meet to-day around the festive board—
With more than viands, and libations stored:
Here memory comes, through time's dim vail to cast
Her varied lights and shadows o'er the past;
And hope amid the joyous group appears.
To gild the visions of our future years!
How green the woodlands, and how bright the sky,
That mark youth's glowing scenes in manhood's eye,—
As rising all unbidden to the view.
They tinge with rosy light life's dark'ning hue!
—And yet, alas, too oft they may recall
The saddening vision of some funeral pall;
And wake the filial tears of fond regret,
O'er those whose sun of life too early set!
That mark youth's glowing scenes in manhood's eye,—
As rising all unbidden to the view.
They tinge with rosy light life's dark'ning hue!
—And yet, alas, too oft they may recall
The saddening vision of some funeral pall;
And wake the filial tears of fond regret,
O'er those whose sun of life too early set!
- ↑ Extracted from the proceedings of the Buckeye and Pioneer Festival, held at Cincinnati, on the anniversary of the Pilgrim landing, Dec. 26, 1834. "9th toast: John {[sc|Cleves Symmes}} [The departed patriarch of the Miami purchase] : Each city, town and village, that dots the green banks of his beloved Miamis, adds but another monument to his momory!"
