PRESIDENT D-K-NS-N, Or the Father of the Commonwealth

The muse, Mecaeneas, eager still for fame, Adorns her page with thy immortal name, Conscious from thence her verse shall never die, Tho' malice blast and envy's tongue decry; Fain would she paint thy nobleness of soul, Thy love of freedom that conducts the whole, Thy piercing genius, politic and great, Charg'd with the weighty business of the state, Thy letter'd wisdom, patriotic fire, With all the thoughts that virtue can inspire— Fain she would paint thy worthiness of heart, But vain is ev'ry effort of her art.—