What though on foeman's land he fell,
No stone the sacred spot to tell,
Yet where the noble Hudson's waves
Its shores of lofty granite laves,
The loved associates of his youth,
Who knew his worth--his spotless truth,
Have bade the marble column rise,
To bid the world that worth to prize;
To teach the youth like him aspire,
And never-fading fame acquire;
Like him on Glory's wings to rise,
To reach, to pierce the azure skies.
And oft the Patriot _there_ will sigh,
And Sorrow oft cloud Beauty's eye,
Whene'er fond memory brings again
The Youth who sleeps on Erie's plain.