Cooper's Clarksburg register. [volume] (Clarksburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1851-1861, 1855-04-04
From the Baltimore Patriot.
Written at the Grave Of Washington

[ OLIVER l. TAYLOR.
The author encountered, in IL trip along the
PoeomUc,a European gentleman of ram: and ed
ucntiOn, who, with the magnifcence Of Wuotnin-
stcr Abbey doubtless before his mind on behold
ing the simple, unadorncd aspect Of Mount Yer
non, remarked with surprizc, not unmixed with
surcUell-' Ard is this all your Country does for
Washington 2"
AND Is THIS ALL: What would'st thou have?
Some vast and colouuadcd pie, whose mounting
Front should ook with daring gaze in Heavens
Calm face, and alHinautinc walls. and pendant
Arms with royal banners dccIi'd, to guard the
CIny the coIiuL clay Of greatness! Not such,
Not such for him! These, the cold and solemn
Mochcrics which cunning Tyranny invents, to
Awe the pusolcss souls of his tame worshippers,
Bcft not Kim, whose life majestic was,
and firm. yet free from pomp and empty boast
AS these high, everlasting hills; and pure
As yon clear Heaven which smiles upon his
Grave. What would'>t thou have! Is not this
Spot Of earth most beautiful! Toll not that
Doleful Bell like it not. Its tones might we'll
Bcit the wall Of woe. stern images of shroud,
And pail, and agonzinS tears; but this,
oh this why, It's ofjoy! This blue
Rejoicing stream, kissing each stulwart rock,
As if to win the stcrnncss from its face,
Goes singing on its way past happy homes,
BlCst with the kindIiest fruits of earth. And
Here the hills have found pathway to the sun,
Cat, hing the earliest smile of coming morn,
And the last glory Of departing day.
The flowers breathe their hoIiest incense round
And all the air is musical with birds
That ilit from spray TO spray.
And here in this
SGquesterel nook, where trees of dcathloss
Ncrdurc spring from out the mould-takiug
Their root from coHsocratcd dust-here slumbers
AN-nll Of greatness that can die!
Tread lightly! For methinks his saintcd spirit
Eroods in all the pcrfum'd air, and hnllows every
Scene of this most lovely spot.
ANDls THIS ALL?
Back to thy lordly Isle, and say to them
Who wear their greatness in icwel'd star,
purple robe and bazoned sepulchre,
That thou hast seen the grave of him whose fame
Is welded to eternity; beneath whose oyo
Their naughty lion quai,'d; before whose brow
Earth's Proudcse monurchs shrank, nbashd
vt their own it:leness, and whose mighty arm
1t was that broke, rs straws, the CALLING yokes,
And dash d to earth the clanking chains they
Formd for men Of free born souls!
AND IS THIS ALL!
And say, beside that grave thou saw'st one. who.
Nurtur'd in he free and fertile West, and taught
BY his own lofty hills and chanless floods
To lo"the the very name Of Tyranny, how'd
Him there, and felt such aspirations high,
Such prido unuttcrable, and such holy awe,
As no Delphian valo, no Pilgrim shrine
OF blessed Mecca, and no mouldering cross
Or tower, clad in verduro rich with blood
Of martvr'd saint or warrior, ere could stir
Within his youthful veins And he but one
OF twice ten million heurts that throb like his
That turn them to this grave, a nations shrine
And gather here such nerve for noble deeds,
That should some rash, intruding foe ere dare
To wrest from them the sacred birth-right, wor
BY him who slumberS here, or ever seek
With sacroligious hand to mar the deep
Repose Of this most consecrated spot, thon,
As multitudinous aSsthe oceans waves, their
Swords would leap from out their sheathes, anc
Strike in their avenging arms for freedom, homo
And God, deeming their lives Ppltry price for
The bare privilege to fight for such heritage.
Anu 80 TIC ave- tiIdI bIuS
Could fire the heart of outh, could win the love
OF matron aud of maid, bore not trace
OF blazon'd euIogy; no funeral urn,
No scnIptur'd shaft of Parian marble, and
No bTistling arms o'ercanopied with gold;
But simple, grand, serene as his own life,
1t lies within the dim old woods he lov'd so we'll
The broad blue Heaven that smiles above
His epitaph-the stream that murmurs by,
His everlasting dtfge!
! Back with thy thoughts
OF lordly birth bring not thy empty trapping
Here. He needs them not.
1T is the custom of vessels to toll their bell
while passing Mount Vernon.
E Daniel Webster's Homestead !,