LINES
Reading edition
ON VISITING BROAD STREET HOTEL,
HEAD-QUARTERS OF WASHINGTON, WHEN NEW YORK WAS EVACUATED BY CLINTON.
———
BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.
———
It is a structure of the olden time,
Built to endure, not dazzle for a day;
A stain is on the venerable roof,
Telling of conflict with the King of Storms,
And clings to casement-worn, and hanging eaves,
With thread-like roots, the moss.
Grey shutters swing
On rusted hinges, but the beams of day
Dart with a softening radiance through the bars.
Colossal domes of chiseled marble made,
Religion’s fanes, with glittering golden spires,
And Mammon’s airy and embellished halls,
Wearing a modern freshness, are in sight,
But a cold glance they win from me alone.
Why do I turn from Art’s triumphant works,
To look on pile more humble? Why in thought
Linger around this ancient edifice?
The place is hallowed—Washington once trod,
Planning the fall of tyranny, these floors.
Within yon chamber did he bend the knee,
Calling on God to aid the patriot’s cause,
At morn, and in the solemn hour of night,
His mandate, pregnant with a Nation’s fate,
Went forth from these plain, unpretending walls.
Here towered, in war-like garb, his stately form,
While marshaled thousands in the dusty street,
Gave ear to his harangue, and inly vowed
To die or conquer with their matchless chief.
Methinks at yon old window I behold
His calm, majestic features—while the sound
Of blessing rises from the throng below.
Have not the scenes of other days returned?
Do I not hear the sentry’s measured tramp,
Clangor of mail, and neigh of battle-steed,
Mingling their discord with the drum’s deep roll?
No! ’twas a dream!—the magic of a place
Allied to memory of Earth’s noblest son,
Gives form and seeming life to viewless air.
Relic of our Heroic Age, farewell!
Long may these walls defy dissolving Time,
Mock the blind fury of the hollow blast,
And woo the pilgrim hither, while a voice
Comes from the shadowy caverns of the Past,
Full of instruction to a freeman’s soul —
A mighty voice that speaks of Washington,
And prompts renewal of stern vow to guard
Pure fires that on my Country’s altar glow.