Poems (Botta)/La Fayette
For works with similar titles, see Lafayette.
LA FAYETTE.
The wail of France comes o’er the sea,— She mourns for thee, departed chief;And we, the children of the Free, Re-echo back the notes of grief.
Thy course was like the morning sun, That lights two worlds, the east and west;Thy brilliant, glorious race is run, Thou takest thine eternal rest.
Thy fame shall pass from age to age, From clime to clime, from sire to son;And History, on her glowing page, Shall write thy name with Washington.