Much do they wrong our Henry, wise and kind,
Morose who name thee, cynical to men,
Forsaking manners civil and refined
To build thyself in Walden woods a den,—
Then flout society, flatter the rude hind.
We better knew thee, loyal citizen!
Thou, friendship’ s all-adventuring pioneer,
Civility itself didst civilize:
Whilst braggart boors, wavering’ twixt rage and fear,
Slave hearths lay waste, and Indian huts surprise,
And swift the Martyr’ s gibbet would uprear:
Thou hail’ dst him great whose valorous emprise
Orion’ s blazing belt dimmed in the sky,—
Then bowed thy unrepining head to die.