LORD BYRON.

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From “Washington’s Vow,” by John Greenleaf Whittier, read at the dedication of the Washington Arch, at New York City, 1889

How felt the land in every part
The strong throb of a nation’s heart? 
As its great leader gave, with reverent awe,
His pledge to Union, Liberty, and Law!

That pledge the heavens above him heard,
That vow the sleep of centuries stirred. 
In world-wide wonder listening peoples bent
Their gaze on Freedom’s great experiment.

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Thank God! the people’s choice was just! 
The one man equal to his trust. 
Wise without lore, and without weakness good,
Calm in the strength of flawless rectitude.

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Our first and Best—­his ashes lie
Beneath his own Virginia sky. 
Forgive, forget, oh! true and just and brave,
The storm that swept above thy sacred grave.

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Then let the sovereign millions where
Our banner floats in sun and air,
From the warm palm-lands to Alaska’s cold,
Repeat with us the pledge, a century old!

Let a man fasten himself to some great idea, some large truth, some noble cause, even in the affairs of this world, and it will send him forward with energy, with steadfastness, with confidence.  This is what Emerson meant when he said:  “Hitch your wagon to a star.”  These are the potent, the commanding, the enduring men,—­in our own history, men like Washington and Lincoln.  They may fail, they may be defeated, they may perish; but onward moves the cause, and their souls go marching on with it, for they are part of it, they have believed in it.

HENRY VAN DYKE.

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  O name forever to thy country dear! 
  Still wreath’d with pride, “still uttered with a tear!”
  Thou that could’st rouse a nation’s host to arms,
  Could’st calm the spreading tumult of alarms,
  Of civil discord, awe the threatening force
  And check even Anarchy’s licentious course! 
  Long as exalted worth commands applause,
  Long as the virtuous bow to virtue’s laws,
  Long as thy reverence and honor join’d,
  Long as the hero’s glory warms the mind,
  Long as the flame of gratitude shall burn,
  Or human tears bedew the patriot’s urn,
  Thy sound shall dwell on each Columbian tongue
  And live lamented in elegiac song! 
  Till some bold bard, inspired with Delphic rage! 
  Shall with thy lusters fire his epic page!

In Fate’s vast chronicle of future time,
The mystic mirror of events sublime
Where deeds of virtue gild each pregnant page
And some grand epoch makes each coming age,
Where germs of future history strike the eye
And empires’ rise and fall in embryo lie,
Though statesmen, heroes, sages, chiefs abound
Yet none of worth like Washington’s are found!