Poetry: Ode

Sungby the constituents of John Quincy AdnniB, on his return from Congress, SepU 17, 1842. Not from the bbody field, Borne on the battered shidd, By foes o'ercome, But, from a sterner fight, In the defence of Right, Clothed In a conqueror's might, Wehail him home. - "Where Slavery's minions cower Before the sèrvile power, He bore their ban; And, iike an nged oak, That braved the lightning's etroke, "Wlien thunders round it broke, Stood Up'j A MAN. Nay - when thé}' stormed" aloud, Aml round him iike a cloud, Carne, thick and blackj He. single-handed, strove, And, Iike Olympian Jove, "With hïs own thunder, drove The phulcnx back. No leafy wreath we t.vine; Of oak or Isthmian pine, To grace his brow; Like his own locks of graj Such leaves would fall away, Aé wiÜ the grateful lay We weave him now. But Time shnll touch the page T hat tells how Quincy's sage Ilasdarcd to live. Save as lie touches wine, Or Shakspeai c'a glowing line, Or Raphael's fotmS divine, ' New life to give1.