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SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. |
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At once they climb that jutting rock, Which might the bravest dare,
And in rude letters carve their names Deep in the limestone there!
They all descend again, save one,—
One, with a dauntless eye, Is reading, far above his own,
A name engraven high.
It is a name to Freedom dear, Our country's noblest son,—
" My humble name—I '11 write it there, " By that of Washington!"
"Tis done—yet onward, upward still,
Fast he pursues his flight, Till, from an op'ning o'er his head,
Rushes a stronger li<rht.
Many have gather'd hastily,
To see our hero there ; Anon, he hears the voice of praise,
Or cry of faint despair!
But still he toils the vast ascent.
Beyond the reach of aid; Still for his patient, tireless feet
Niche after niche is made. |
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