JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
183
"Where slavery's minions cower
Before the servile power,
He bore their ban;
And, like the aged oak,
That braved the lightning's stroke,
When thunders round it broke,
Stood up a man.
"Nay, when they stormed aloud,
And round him like a cloud.
Came thick and black,—
He single-handed strove,
And, like Olympian Jove,
With his own thunder drove
The phalanx back.
"Not from the bloody field.
Borne on his battered shield.
By foes o'ercome;—
But from a sterner fight,
In the defence of Eight,
Clothed with a conqueror's might.
We hail him home.
"His life in labours spent,
That 'Old man eloquent’
Now rests for aye;—
His dust the tomb may claim;—
His spirit's quenchless flame,
His ’venerable name,'[1]
Pass not away."[2]
