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When New York Was Evacuated by Clinton
(Excerpt)
IT is a structure of the olden time, | |
| Built to endure, not dazzle for a day: | |
| A stain is on the venerable roof, | |
| Telling of conflict with the King of Storms; | |
| And clings to casement worn and hanging eaves, | 5 |
With thread-like roots, the moss.
Gray shutters swing | |
| On rusted hinges, but the beams of day | |
| Dart with a softening radiance through the bars. | |
| Colossal domes of chiselled marble made, | |
| Religion’s fanes, with glittering golden spires, | 10 |
| And Mammon’s airy and embellished halls, | |
| Wearing a modern freshness, are in sight; | |
| But a cold glance they win from me alone. | |
| Why do I turn from Art’s triumphant works | |
| To look on pile more humble? Why in thought | 15 |
| Linger around this ancient edifice? | |
| The place is hallowed,—Washington once trod, | |
| Planning the fall of tyranny, these floors. | |
| Within yon chamber did he bend the knee, | |
| Calling on God to aid the patriot’s cause, | 20 |
| At morn and in the solemn hour of night. | |
| His mandate, pregnant with a nation’s fate, | |
| Went forth from these plain, unpretending walls. | |
| Here towered in warlike garb his stately form, | |
| While marshalled thousands in the dusty street | 25 |
| Gave ear to his harangue, and inly vowed | |
| To die or conquer with their matchless chief. | |
| Methinks at yon old window I behold | |
| His calm majestic features, while the sound | |
| Of blessing rises from the throng below. | 30 |
| Have not the scenes of other days returned? | |
| Do I not hear the sentry’s measured tramp, | |
| Clangor of mail and neigh of battle-steed, | |
| Mingling their discord with the drum’s deep roll? | |
| No! ’t was a dream!—the magic of a place, | 35 |
| Allied to memory of earth’s noblest son, | |
| Gives form and seeming life to viewless air. * * * * * | |
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