But here comes one, that seems to out-rejoice
All the rejoicing tribe! wild is her eye,
And frantic is her air, and fanciful
Her sable suit; and round, she rapid rolls
Her greedy eyes upon the spangled street.
And drinks with greedy gaze upon the sparkling
scene!
“And see!” she cries how they
have graced the hour
That gave him to his grave! hail
lovely lamps,
In honor of that hour a grateful land
Hath hung aloft! and sure he well deserves
The tributary splendor for
he fought
Their battles well ah! he was
valor’s self
Fierce was the look with which he faced
the foe
But on his Harriet, when my hero bent
it,
’Twas so benign! and beautiful he
was
And he was young; too young in years,
to die!
’Twas but a little while his wing
had thrown
Its guardian shadow o’er me but
’tis gone
Fall’n is my shield, yet see now
if I weep.
A British warrior’s widow should
not weep
Her hero sleeps in honor’s fragrant
bed
So they all tell me, and I have nobly
learned
Their gallant lesson all my
tears are gone
Bright glory’s beam has dried them
every drop
No, No, I scorn
to weep high is mine heart!
Hot are mine eyes! there’s no weak
water there!
’Tis time I should have joyed what
mother would not?
To have shown him that sweet babe o’er
which he wept
When last he kissed it yes
he did he wept;
My warrior wept! as the weak
woman’s tears
From off this cheek, where now I none
can feel,
He kissed away he wet it with
his own;
Oh! yes ’twould ’twould
have been sweet to have shown him
How his dear lovely boy had: grown,
since he
Beheld it cradled, and to have bid it
call him
By the sweet name that I had taught it
utter
In softest tones, while he was thunder
hearing,
And thunder hurling round him for
his hand
Would not be idle amid deeds of glory;
Yes glory glory glory
is the word
See how it glitters all along the street!
And then she laughs, and wildly leaps
along
With tresses all untied. Fair wretch adieu:
In mercy heaven thy shattered
peace repair.
FAWCETT.