John Gardiner Calkins Brainard (1795–1828)

THAT steed has lost his rider! I have seen

His snuffing nostril, and his pawing hoof;

His eyeball lighting to the cannon’s blaze,

His sharp ear pointed, and each ready nerve,

Obedient to a whisper;—his white mane

Curling with eagerness, as if it bore,

To squadron’d foes, the sign of victory,

Where’er his bounding speed could carry it.

But now, with languid step, he creeps along,

Falters, and groans, and dies.

And I have seen

Yon foundering vessel, when with crowding sail,

With smoking bulwarks and with blazing sides,

Sporting away the foam before her prow,

And heaving down her side to the brave chase,

She seem’d to share the glories of the bold!

But now with flagging canvass, lazily

She moves; and stumbling on the rock, she sinks,

As broken-hearted as that faithful steed,

That lost his rider, and laid down, and died.