On the birth-day of Time, the young monarch of light <br />With his beams waked from slumber the virgin creation;- <br />So, dispelling the gloom of Cimmerian night, <br />The lustre of Washington burst on our nation. <br />And this is the morn <br />The Hero was born, <br />Whose virtues shall History's pages adorn; <br />And his spirit awakes from the sleep of the grave, <br />To meet with his friends;-for his friends are the brave. <br /> <br /> <br />The same spirit descends, borne on pinions of light, <br />That guided to fame our immortal commander; <br />O'er the ashes of Moscow she urges her flight, <br />And smiles while she hovers around Alexander. <br />She points to his rest <br />In the bowers of the blest, <br />Where the sunshine of peace warms the patriot's breast; <br />Where Washington, waked from the sleep of the grave, <br />Waits to welcome his friend;-for his friend is the brave. <br /> <br /> <br />The Serpent of France, nursed on carnage and spoil, <br />In whose poisonous train war and pestilence follow, <br />In agony writhes his voluminous coil, <br />Like the Python, assailed by the shafts of Apollo. <br />And, while patriot zeal <br />Gives the monster to feel <br />The lance of Koutousoff and Wellington's steel, <br />The spirit of Washington wakes from his grave, <br />To rejoice with his friends;-for his friends are the brave. <br /> <br /> <br />Though Columbia, ingulfed in a vortex of blood, <br />Hurls her gauntlet, unarmed, at the proud Queen of Ocean;- <br />Let thy spirit, great Hero, descend on the flood, <br />And rescue thy child from the mighty commotion.- <br />And, with boundless acclaim, <br />We'll ascribe to thy name <br />All that 's sacred in honor, or lasting in fame; <br />Till the fields of our fathers be Liberty's grave, <br />And virtue expire in the breast of the brave.<br /><br />John Pierpont<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hymns-and-odes-i/
