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| THE QUARRY whence thy form majestic sprung | |
| Has peopled earth with grace, | |
| Heroes and gods that elder bards have sung, | |
| A bright and peerless race; | |
| But from its sleeping veins ne’er rose before | 5 |
| A shape of loftier name | |
| Than his, who Glory’s wreath with meekness wore, | |
| The noblest son of Fame. | |
| Sheathed is the sword that Passion never stained; | |
| His gaze around is cast, | 10 |
| As if the joys of Freedom, newly gained, | |
| Before his vision passed; | |
| As if a nation’s shout of love and pride | |
| With music filled the air, | |
| And his calm soul was lifted on the tide | 15 |
| Of deep and grateful prayer; | |
| As if the crystal mirror of his life | |
| To fancy sweetly came, | |
| With scenes of patient toil and noble strife, | |
| Undimmed by doubt or shame; | 20 |
| As if the lofty purpose of his soul | |
| Expression would betray,— | |
| The high resolve Ambition to control, | |
| And thrust her crown away! | |
| O, it was well in marble firm and white | 25 |
| To carve our hero’s form, | |
| Whose angel guidance was our strength in fight, | |
| Our star amid the storm! | |
| Whose matchless truth has made his name divine, | |
| And human freedom sure, | 30 |
| His country great, his tomb earth’s dearest shrine, | |
| While man and time endure! | |
| And it is well to place his image there | |
| Upon the soil he blest: | |
| Let meaner spirits, who its councils share, | 35 |
| Revere that silent guest! | |
| Let us go up with high and sacred love | |
| To look on his pure brow, | |
| And as, with solemn grace, he points above, | |
| Renew the patriot’s vow! | 40 |
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