The virtuous delegates behold with pain The hostile Britons hovering o'er the main, Lament the strife that bids two worlds engage, And blot their annals with fraternal rage; Two worlds in one broad state! whose bounds bestride, Like heaven's blue arch, the vast Atlantic tide, By language, laws and liberty combined, Great nurse of thought, example to mankind. Columbia rears her warning voice in vain, Brothers to brothers call across the main; Britannia's patriots lend a listening ear, But kings and courtiers push their mad career; Dissension raves, the sheathless falchions glare, And earth and ocean tremble at the war. Thus with stern brow, as worn by cares of state, His bosom big with dark unfolding fate, High o'er his lance the sacred Eagle spread, And earth's whole crown still resting on his head, Rome's hoary Genius rose, and mournful stood On roaring Rubicon's forbidden flood, When Cesar's ensigns swept the Alpine air, Led their long legions from the Gallic war, Paused on the opposing bank with wings unfurl'd, And waved portentous o'er the shuddering world. The god, with outstretch'd arm and awful look, Call'd the proud victor and prophetic spoke: Arrest, my son, thy parricidious hate, Pass not the stream nor stab my filial state, Stab not thyself, thy friends, thy total kind, And worlds and ages in one state combined. The chief, regardless of the warning god, Rein'd his rude steed and headlong past the flood, Cried, Farewel, Peace! took Fortune for his guide, And o'er his country pour'd the slaughtering tide. High on the foremost seat, in living light, Resplendent Randolph caught the world's full sight. He opes the cause, and points in prospect far Thro all the toils that wait impending war: But, reverend sage! thy race must soon be o'er, To lend thy lustre and to shine no more. So the mild morning star, from shades of even, Leads up the dawn and lights the front of heaven, Points to the waking world the sun's broad way, Then veils his own, and vaults above the day. And see bright Washington behind thee rise, Thy following sun, to gild our morning skies, O'er shadowy climes to pour enlivening flame, The charms of freedom and the fire of fame. For him the patriot bay beheld with pride The hero's laurel springing by its side; His sword still sleeping rested on his thigh, On Britain still he cast a filial eye; But sovereign fortitude his visage bore, To meet her legions on the invaded shore. Sage Franklin next arose with cheerful mien, And smiled unruffled o'er the solemn scene; His locks of age a various wreath embraced, Palm of all arts that e'er a mortal graced; Beneath him lay the sceptre kings had borne, And the tame thunder from the tempest torn.