Elegy on the Death of Dr. Joseph Youle

Elegy sacred to the Memory of deceased Friends

Epitaph on John F. Roorbach, Esq.

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On the Arrival of the late President of the United States

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POEMS.

ODE

ON THE DEATH OF

GENERAL GEORGE WASHINGTON.

Recited by Mr. HODGKINSON, in the New-York Theatre, on the 8th of January, 1800.

FROM dread JEHOVAH's everlasting throne,

Celestial Wisdom on my numbers beam;

With thy inspiring gifts come down,

And let thy sacred light my off'ring crown,
For vast, sublime, and arduous is my theme.
Erewhile I woo'd fictitious aid,

And on young Fancy's pinions soar'd;

Or with the tuneful sisters stray'd,

And all their flow'ry paths explor'd ;—

But now I hail bright Truth, whose vivid ray
Illumines man's benighted way:

B

And all the martial band, with tearful eyes,

See where their dear, illustrious chieftain lies;
His hallow'd urn unfading laurels grace,
And warlike trophies flourish round its base!
The solemn dirge, with sadly-tuneful notes,
Sublimely slow, on Air's still bosom floats;
Funereal peals our WASHINGTON deplore,
And cannon sound his fame from shore to shore.

1

Ah! well may freemen his decease lament, Whom gracious Heav'n to their deliv'rance sent. When mad Ambition forg'd the galling chains Which Freedom loathes and man disdains;

When Cruelty, fell murd'rer, stood,

Thirsting, panting for our blood,

And carnage strew'd th' ensanguin'd plains;
When curst Oppression, with gigantic stride,
Spread desolation far and wide;

When harvests perish'd, cities blaz'd,

And lawless Power advanc'd with arm uprais'd,
To crush the hallow'd fane which Freedom rear'd,

Our shield, our strength, our last resource,
The mighty WASHINGTON appear'd,

And turn'd aside its vengeful force:

Ah! who could call this burst of sorrow forth,
This tribute due to unexampled worth,

But WASHINGTON! that great, exalted name,
Which made proud nobles sicken at his fame,
And monarchs inly pine at regal birth?
But vain is mortal eulogy, these lays

In vain attempt to tell his matchless praise:

Our grief exceeds this awful pomp of woe,-
His merit beggars all external show.

Yes, a bereaved world will soon deplore,
That now the world's best friend exists no more!

And lo! where all Death's dread insignia come:→
How melancholy sounds the shrouded drum!
A num'rous train, to whom his name is dear,
Attend his honor'd dust, in sable clad,

With downcast, humid eyes, and bosoms sad,
And follow slow the consecrated bier:

The mute procession, wrap'd in death-like gloom,
With solemn obsequies approach his tomb;

The warrior's breast with big emotion heaves,
When the black pall the dismal coffin leaves,

And the drear sepulchre its precious charge receives;