Poems Sigourney 1827/Death of Jefferson



DEATH OF JEFFERSON.

july 4, 1826.


Turn from yon mountain-height and weep
                Thou philosophic maid!
        Who erst on Pindus' hallow'd steep
                The lore of heaven survey'd.

        From Monticello's sacred shade
                So long thy loved abode,
        Where in harmonious sway
        Wisdom with the Graces trod,
                Turn pensive Muse away!

     There 's mourning in yon classic halls
         Which near Rivanna's rapid tide,
     Rear high their consecrated walls
                    In attic pride.
                    Virginia there
                    Like matron fair,
             To Science yields her darling care,
Sighs o'er her ancient fame and breathes to hope the prayer.
           She bids her embryo statesmen rise,
           Genius sparkling in their eyes,
           To bless with grateful tears, the Sage,
The founder of their dome, the star on history's page.

            Forth from his pen of might
            Burst that immortal scroll,
            Which gave a living soul
            To a young nation's shapeless clay,
                It said "let there be light!"
    And startled realms beheld a new-born day.—
    The waking world in long subjection held,
            Traced with astonish'd eye
            The question'd right of royalty,
    And fear'd the thunders of a vengeful sky,
    While Freedom from his storm-rock'd cradle came
            Scorning a monarch's name,
And with a daring hand the vaunted sceptre quell'd.

    Say, —what was his reward who with the band
    Of constellated souls thus saved a threaten'd land?—
            To see the war-clouds fade away,
            And peace resume her blissful sway,—
            See liberty and equal law
Crush fell Discord's brood malign,
            From every clime of earth to draw
    Admiring pilgrims round his household shrine,—
                To amass from learning's store,
                The proudly treasured lore,
    To see fair cities rise amid the uncultured waste,
    And in his mountain paradise to taste
    Those ripen'd fruits whose germ was sown in blood,
And mark his country's flag wave high o'er Glory's flood.
    To wreath around his brow bright Honour's crown,
And find in weary age the love-smooth'd couch of down.

            But one desire remain'd,—to see
            His prosperous nation's Jubilee;—
    Forth came that glorious morn with radiant vest,
    He caught its smile, and enter'd to his rest,
    From life's protracted banquet rose serene,
Earth's latest wish fulfill'd, and sought a higher scene.