The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1880-05-06
+ or the Bulletin.
CENTENNIAL ODE, 1850.

For the Bulletin.
CENTENNIAL ODE, 1850.
On the rocky shores OF Cumberland,
In the far off long ago,
Stood the duSIyy child of Nature
Leaning sadly ON his bow;
Ills ewes were gazeing Eastward,
His features filled with gloom
As he saw in prophetic vision,
The dreaded pale-face come.
Saw them leave the ''blue Wautauga"
And toward sunset take their way,
And he's taught by sad tradition
They are coming now to stay,
So drawing his robe of bear skin
About his swarthy breast,
He called his warriors round him
And vanished in the West.
He's eome-the conquering pale-face,
And finding naught to fear,
Encamps around the Saline Spring"
Whose fountain bubbles clear;
While from out each Ieafy covert round
There springs the antlered deer,
Then speaks their leader, ROBERTSON,
His comrades lis'ning near.
"This surely is Gods chosen land
Well build city here"
They fixed upon n rocky height,
The ground was soon surveyed;
And here for the future Nashville
The corner stone was laid
When stalwart hands and willing hearts
Upreared the strong stockade.
Nov leave we here the pioneers,
We are not allowed the space
To even in faintest outline,
Their future history trace.
We only know that "having filled
The measure of their glory"
They've passed into the "Silent land"
To live in "song and story"
No sculptured marble marks the graves
Where the patriarchs lie sleeping,
But the midnight stars that DER them beam
Eternal guard are keeping.
There could be no prouder cenotaph
For these men of iron will,
Than the noble one that stands to-day
Growing "Campbell's rocky hill".
From whose stately sun-lit dome is seen
The nations ensign flying,
While circling round It's granite base
The Queenly city's lying.
Here all her pomp and pageantry
Have met in proud array,
To hail her anniversary,
Her great Centennial day.
To-day we lift the misty veil
That shuts us from the past,
And with the scenes of other years
This opening view contrast.
The widest dream of pioneer
We see in light portrayed,
In the fair and prosperous city
The century's work has made.
Her cross crowned spires point upward
From her busy streets below
Where stood old Indian wigwams
In thu distant long ago.
a stately hall of learning now
Stands ON each rocky height
Where once in deadly conflict met,
The red man and the white.
Where once the rude war song was heart
Now comes the song of steam,
As the tireless stead of pmme.c,
Thunders on DER hill and stream
Drawing products of her handicraft
From her looms, her mines, her mills
Stamped with the well known trademark
''From the city of the hills"
Fair city of the hills indeedM
City OF the open hand,
Giving freely to the suffering
OF every name and land,
When 4 fever stricken people.
In their anguish sought her side
She caught them to her bosom,
And their tears of sorrow dried,
When other doors were closed to them,
Her portals were flung wide.
Her gallant sons have ever won
Proud laurels in the field,
And some have made all nations round
Admitting tribute yield, NOV
And the brightest names that are wove1
In her centennial wreath
Are those Of her two matchless sons
Whose fame has conquered death.
So go on thou favored city,
No disaster cans't thou fear,
With thy POLK entombed within thee,
And thy JACKSON sleeping near,
i. progression be thy motto
As the coming years unfold;
and another century see thee
Crowned with spIendors yet untold.