AN ODE.*

ALMIGHTY POWER! The ONE SUPREME !
Our souls inspire, attune our lays

With hearts as solemn as our theme,
To sing hosannas to thy praise!

Then, while we swell the sacred song,
And bid the pealing anthem rise

May seraphim the strain prolong,

And hymns of glory fill the skies.

Thy word omnifick form'd this earth,
Ere time began revolving years—

Thy fiat gave to Nature birth

And tun'd to harmony the spheres.

* This ode was written to the musick of an anthem, previously composed for other words, by Oliver Holden, Esq. Charlestown, Massachussetts, a gentleman eminent for his musical talents, and sung during divine service, at the anniversary of Vermont General Election.

When stern Oppression's iron hand,
Our pious fathers forc❜d to roam,

And o'er the wild wave seek the land
Where Freedom rears her hallow'd dome.

When tempests howl'd, and o'er the main,
Pale Horrour rear'd his haggard form;
Thou didst the fragile bark sustain

To stem the fury of the storm!

When savage hordes, from wilds immense,
Rais'd the shrill war-whoop's frantick yell,
Thine arm made bare in our defence,
Dispers'd the gloomy hosts of hell!*

Thou badst the wilderness disclose
The varied sweets of vernal bloom-

The desert blossom'd like the rose,

And breath'd Arabia's rich perfume!

The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all those who forget God. Psalms.

Look down from heaven's empyreal height,
And gild with smiles this happy day.
Send us some chosen SoN OF LIGHT

Our feet to guide in Wisdom's way.

The sons of Faction strike with awe,
And hush the din of party rage,
That LIBERTY, secur'd by Law,
May realize a golden age.

On those thy choicest blessings shower
To whom the cares of state are given;
May Justice wield the sword of Power,

TILL EARTH'S THE MINIATURE OF HEAVEN!

ELEGY

ON THE DEATH OF

GENERAL WASHINGTON.

WHY moves to mournful measures slow

Yon sable retinue of woe,

With tearful eye and visage pale?
And why this universal gloom?

Sure Nature trembles o'er her tomb,
And bids her wilder'd children wail!

Do plagues infest, do wars alarm,
Has God in wrath made bare his arm,

To hurl his bolts of vengeance round?
Have towns been sack'd by hostile ire,

Have cities sunk in floods of fire,

While earthquakes shook the shuddering ground?

Ah! no, thy sons, Columbia, mourn
A hero past that fatal "bourn

"From whence no traveller returns ;" Before him none more good, more great, E'er felt the unerring shafts of Fate, Though Glory's lamp illume their urns.

Behold yon pallid war-worn chief,
A marble monument of grief,

Who once our troops to victory led ;-
The burst of sorrow now control,
But now the tears of anguish roll,

A tribute to the immortal dead!

Fain would the muse those virtues scan,
Which dignified the godlike man,

And launch in seas without a shore;
But sure his name alone conveys

More than a thousand hymns of praise,

The matchless WASHINGTON's no more!