JUDGE TRUMBULL.
I saw him in his reverie. Night had drawn
Dense curtains o'er the slumbering, snow-rob'd earth,
And a lone lamp its fitful lustre threw
Upon his musing brow. 'Twas mark'd by age,
And thought profound, perchance, with sadness ting'd,
Yet from the piercing eye that beauty beam'd
Which wrinkled Time respecteth.
This was he,
Whose shaft of Wit had touch'd the epic strain
With poignant power, the father of the harp,
In his own native vales. He seem'd to muse
As if those lov'd retreats did spread themselves
Again before his eye. The sighing wind
Through the long branches of those ancient trees
Where first his boyhood lisp'd the lore of song,
Doth lull his soul. Then brighter visions come,
A sound of music rises. 'Tis thy voice
Connecticut! as when by vernal rains
Surcharg'd, it swell'd in tuneful murmurs round
The vine-clad mansion, where his children grew.
But lo! the clangor of yon mighty lakes
Holding hoarse conflict with the winged storm
Breaks up the melody. And is it so?
That in the feebleness of four score years,
Thou, with unshrinking hand dost pitch thy tent
Near the rude billows of the Michigan,
And mark in that far land, young life start forth
In vigor and in beauty and in power,
Where erst the Indian and the panther dwelt,
Sole lords? It was a bold emprise to change
The robe of science and of minstrelsy,
Worn from thy cradle onward, for the staff
Of the rough emigrant.
Again I look'd,
His lamp had faded, and the learned page
Was clos'd within his study. The blest book
Of God's great love to man, was open still:
Where was the eye that ponder'd it? the heart
That priz'd it more than Greek or Roman lore?
—There was a shroud, a pall, a tender sigh
Of Woman's grief, and 'neath the broken sods
Of that New World, the patriarch poet lies,
"And 'dust to dust' concludes our noblest song."
—Master and friend! until this feeble lyre
In silence moulders, till my heart forget
The thrill of gratitude, the love of song,
The praise of virtue, shall thine image dwell
Bright with the beauty of benignant age
In my soul's temple-shrine.