William Penn

by John Greenleaf Whittier

The tyrant on his gilded throne,
The warior in his battle dress,
The holier triumph ne'er have known
Of justice and of righteousness.

Founder of Pennsylvania thou,
Didst feel it, when thy words of peace
Smoothed the stern chieftain's swarthy brow,
And bade the dreadful war to cease.

On Schuylkill's banks no fortress frowned;
The peaceful cot alone was there;
No beacon-fires the hilltops crowned,
No death-shot swept the Delaware.

In manners meek, in precepts mild,
Thou and thy friends serenely taught
The savage huntsman, fierce and wild,
To raise to heaven his erring thought.

How all unlike the bloody band
That unrelenting Cortez led,
To princely Montezuma's land,
And ruin round his pathway shed!

With hearts that knew not how to spare,
Disdaining milder means to try,
The demon crimson sword alone was there;
The Indians' choice to yield or die.

But, thou, meek Pennsylvania sire,
Unarmed, alone, from terror free,
Taught by the heathen council fire
The lessons of Christianity.

Founder of Pennsylvania's state—
Not on the blood-wet roles of fame,
But with the wise, the good, the great,
The world shall place thy sainted name.