[for the Dispatch.]
The following remarkable was one the products of the revolution of seventy- six. But its spirit so well our own revolution that I have made an effort to recall it. I copy it imperfectly from memory, but I am sure that it will be welcomed, even in the form in which I present it. I hope that some one will be able to reproduce it in its full power and beauty. I will only add, that, the name of the author was Hashanah Nike, and that it was written soon after the battle of Bunker Hill. I have seen, it in a work called Encyclopedia of American Poetry: J. F. A.The true Hero.
Why should vam mortals tremble at the Sight of Death and destruction in the field of battle:Where blood and carriage clothe the ground with crimson,
Sounding in death groans.
Death will lavage by the means appointed,
And we must all how to the King of Terrors;
Nor am I anxious, if I am prepared,
What shape be comes in.
It finite goodness teaches us submission--
be quiet under all His dealing--
Never repairing, but forever praising
God the Creator.
Well may we praise him: all his ways are perfect,
Though resplendence, inflatable glowing,
Dizzies in glory on the sight of mortals.
Truce blind by lustre.
Good is Jehovah in the gift of sunshine,
Nor less the goodness in the storm and thunder:
Mercies and judgments both proceed from kindness.--
Infinite kindness.
O, then, exult, that God forever reigned!
Cloud, which around hinder our perception,
Hind us the stronger to exalt his name and
Shout louder praises.
Then to the wisdom of my Lord and Mesire
I will commit that I have or wish for;
Sweetly a babes sleep will I give my life up
When called to yield it.
Now, Mars, I dare thee clad in smoky pillars,
Bureding from roating from the cannon,
Ratting in grapeshot, like a storm of hailstones,
Torturing other.
Up the black leavets let the spreading flames rise,
Low'ring, like Egypt, o'er the fallen city,
Wantonly burnt down.
From the dire caverns made by ghastly miners
Let the explosion, terrible to nature,
Heave the creed town, with all its wealth and people,
Quick to destruction.
Still shall the banner of the King of Heaven
Never advance where I am afraid to follow;
While that precedes me, with an open bosom,
War, I defy thee.
Fame and dear freedom lure me on to battle,
White a fell despot, grimmer than a death's-head,
Stings me with serpents, fiercer than Medusa's,
To the encounter.
Life, for my country and the cause of freedom,
Is but a trade for a worm to part with;
And if preserved is so great a contest,
Life is redoubted.
