Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1858-01-21
3loetlGal.
The Grave Of Ethan Allen.

One beautiful autumnal day
l stood above the moulde ring clay
OF Vermont's noblest champion, "when
War tried the souls of patriot men,"
When looking on that deathless page,
The record of that early age,
Where live in characters of light
His dauntless courage, strength and might,
His Yankee art, his willy skill
To subject all things to his will,
It seems he might have coined some way
To cheat grim death out Of his prey.
But no, his stalwart frame IS arrest
Beneath the sod his foot oft pressed;
His burning, ardent, struggling soul
Has done its work and reached the goal.
Should wars dread clarion sound again,
His ear were silent to the strain;
And Freedoms voice no more could thrill
The pulseless heart so cold and still.
The old grey stone above his head
Might echo to a nations tread,
Pressing with reverence the sod
Where slumbers the old hero-god;
But all were powerless to break
The spell, and bid the warrior wake.
The sharers of his toll, that band
That freed with him this mountain land.
Those noble souls, who freely gave
Their all for Freedom and a grave ;
Could they but stand within the gloom
That wraps their leaders, lowly tomb
With tongue of flame and voice of might
Bid him come forth unto the fight
Not even this could rend the chain
And bid that bosom heave again.
That keen bright eye that, undismayed
Looked on the quiyering battle blade,
That powerful arm, whose lightest stroke
Could almost rend the mountain oak,
That voice, that raised the startling cry
Surrender - at the fort of I'll
That courage, failure could not chill;
But hoped, believed and struggled still,
That soul, that, scorning tyrant's laws,
Struck for his country and her cause
At last were conquered by foe
Who never strikes an erring blow,
And then, "life's ftful fever o'er,"
In nh 70 TO l,n
He sank to rest but left name
That shall hero's honors claim,
In every cline, on every shore,
Till this fair land shall be no more
This goodly land, to free whose soil
From tyrant rule, he spared no toll,
And lent his hand to aid her birth
Among the nations of the earth.
Oh, could he but have lived to see
That land in her prosperity
Stretched from the green Atlantic shores
To where the broad Pacific roars-
From hoarse Niagara's laundering flow
To calm and placid Mexico
When on the breeze her flag unrolls,
1t shelters in its ample folds
The poor oppressed from every strand,
And welcomes them to this fair land
II
Upon Winooslhi's pleasant shore
Brave Allen sleeps-his labors o'er--
And there beneath the murmuring pine
Is Freedoms consecrated shrine.
That sacred ground, that hallowed sod,
By none save reverent feet is trod
And every patriotic heart will swell
With Thoughts no human tongue can tell,
As, bending DER that lowly grave,
He pays his homage to the brave,
The State he loved has not forgot
That in that lone, neglected spot,
There sleeps the light whose steady ray
Turned all her darkness into day;
And soon granite tongue shall tell
The fame of him who fought so well
For this our State, when dark and drear
The storm of war was raging here.
Is there heart whose pulse is still,
Is there soul that does not thrill,
Upstarting, leaping like fame,
Before the magic of his name?
Then is tina t heart a desert dread;
That nerveless soul benumbed and dead
To noble thoughts, and deeds whose wort
Redeems and saves the fallen earth.
Then let it be our earnest aim
To cherish every noble name;
To rescue from oblivion
The deeds of those whose lives are done,
That ages yet to come may read
Each worthy name, each valiant deed,
And know with what fearless hand
Our fathers struck for life and land.
Their names are many; but among
That matchless crowd, that peerless throI
There's one that shines for us alone,
Whose deathless glory is our own;
His memory then should ever be
Dear to our hearts as liberty;
And while our country has name
Let US preserve our Aliens fame.
ofr