SCENE IV.--_Another apartment in said ho_The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 2 (of 3)

ARNOLD.

_Aide._ General Arnold here?

_Jeff._ Two hours have hardly yet elapsed since he

Across the river to the garrison

On some important business went in haste,

So as I told to his attendant here.

For since the general parted I arrived.

Is he, then, at the garrison? by heaven,

We'll have him in a trice.

_Aide._ You'll have him in a trice. Pray, what means that?

_Jeff._ I see your ignorance, my honest friend.

Why such a damned, unnatural plot has happened

That when I mention it, if you have feeling,

At the first word your blood must chill with horror

And admiration shake your very soul.

This traitor Arnold, this vile, abandoned traitor,

This monster of ingratitude unequalled,

Has been conspiring with an English spy

To render tip the fort to General Clinton.

_Aide._ What fort? the fort at West Point, mean you?

_Jeff._ The fort at West Point, on my sacred honour,

The garrison, dependencies, and stores,

And, what is more, the person of our leader.

Five thousand troops at York are now embarked,

And even wait this night to take possession.

_Aide._ Is this reality; sure you are jesting.

And yet you serious seem to be of countenance.

Lips that quiver, eyes that glow with passion,

Tempt me to think your story may be true.

And yet I doubt it. Came you here to seize him?

_Jeff._ Nay, doubt it not. I have the papers with me

That at a glance betray this horrid treason.

_Aide._ For what could he do this?

Was it Resentment, Avarice, Ambition

That prompted him to act the traitor's part?

And yet I'm sure it never could be avarice.

His country lavishes her wealth upon him;

He has the income of a little king,

And perquisites that by a hundred ways

Not only the base wants of life supply,

But deck him out in elegance and grandeur.

Perhaps, indeed, he has ambitious views:

He aims to make his court to Britain's king,

And rise upon the ruins of his country.

Perhaps it is resentment and disgust,

For many hate him, and have often said

He fattens on the plunder of the public.

_Jeff._ 'Tis avarice, sir, that base, unmanly motive.

The glare of British gold has captivated

This hero, as we thought him. What a curse,

That human souls can of such stuff be moulded,

That they, foregoing fame and character,

E'en for the sake of what is despicable,

Be foe to virtue and to virtue's friend.

But such are to be found, and every age has seen 'em,

Who, for the sake of mere external show,

Some qualities that seemed to them attractive----[40]

[33] This fragment of a drama, as far as I can find, was never

published. Freneau, judging from indications, wrote it shortly after his

"Prison Ship," in the autumn of 1780, only a few weeks after the events

took place which it records. It exists, as far as I know, only in

Freneau's fragmentary and much-revised autograph manuscript now in the

possession of Miss Adele M. Sweeney of Jersey City. The arrest of Andre

took place September 23, 1780.

[34] Here occurs an illegible word in Freneau's manuscript.

[35] This poem was first published in the edition of 1786 under the

title, "The English Quixote of 1778; or, Modern Idolatry." In the 1809

edition Freneau added the following:

EPILOGUE

'Tis so well known 'tis hardly worth relating

That men have worshipped gods, though of their own creating:

Art's handy work they thought they might adore,

And bowed to gods that were but logs before.

Idols, of old, were made of clay or wood,

And, in themselves, did neither harm nor good,

Acted as though they knew the good old rule,

"Friend, hold thy peace, and you'll be thought no fool."

Britons! their case is yours--and linked in fate,

You, like your Indian allies--good and great--

Bow to some frowning block yourselves did rear,

And worship _wooden monarchs_--out of fear.

[36] This lyric has been used by Freneau in his poem, "Mars and Hymen,"

_q. v._

[37] An illegible word.

[38] This poem had also been used in "Mars and Hymen." In later editions

it was printed as a distinct lyric, with the title "The Northern

Soldier." The present version, reprinted from Freneau's manuscript, will

be seen to differ considerably from the others.

[39] A part of the manuscript is missing at this point.

[40] Here the manuscript ends abruptly.

* * * * *

PART III

ERA OF THE FREEMAN'S JOURNAL

1781--1790

ERA OF THE FREEMAN'S JOURNAL

1781--1790[41]

[41] This period began in August, 1781, when Freneau became connected

with Mr. Francis Bailey's _Freeman's Journal_, in Philadelphia. In June,

1784, he left Philadelphia for a wandering career upon the ocean, which

continued until 1790, when his assumption of the editorship of the _New

York Advertiser_ and his marriage put an end for a time to his

wanderings. The greater part of the poems written during this period

appeared originally in the _Freeman's Journal_.

ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY[42]

Obtained by the gallant Captain Paul Jones, of the _Good Man Richard_,

over the _Seraphis_, etc., under the command of Captain Pearson.

Written August, 1781

O'er the rough main with flowing sheet

The guardian of a numerous fleet,

_Seraphis_ from the Baltic came;

A ship of less tremendous force

Sail'd by her side the self-same course,

_Countess of Scarb'ro'_ was her name.

And now their native coasts appear,

Britannia's hills their summits rear

Above the German main;

Fond to suppose their dangers o'er,

They southward coast along the shore,

Thy waters, gentle Thames, to gain.

Full forty guns _Seraphis_ bore,

And _Scarb'ro's Countess_ twenty-four,

Mann'd with Old England's boldest tars--

What flag that rides the Gallic seas

Shall dare attack such piles as these,

Design'd for tumults and for wars!

Now from the top-mast's giddy height

A seaman cry'd--"Four sail in sight

"Approach with favouring gales;"

Pearson, resolv'd to save the fleet,

Stood off to sea these ships to meet,

And closely brac'd his shivering sails.

With him advanc'd the _Countess_ bold,

Like a black tar in wars grown old:

And now these floating piles drew nigh;

But, muse, unfold what chief of fame

In th' other warlike squadron came,

Whose standards at his mast head fly.

'Twas Jones, brave Jones, to battle led

As bold a crew as ever bled

Upon the sky surrounded main;

The standards of the Western World

Were to the willing winds unfurl'd,

Denying Britain's tyrant reign.

The _Good Man Richard_ led the line;

The _Alliance_ next: with these combine

The Gallic ship they _Pallas_ call:

The _Vengeance_, arm'd with sword and flame,

These to attack the Britons came--

But two accomplish'd all.

Now Phoebus sought his pearly bed:

But who can tell the scenes of dread,

The horrors of that fatal night!

Close up these floating castles came;

The _Good Man Richard_ bursts in flame;

_Seraphis_ trembled at the sight.

She felt the fury of her ball,

Down, prostrate down, the Britons fall;

The decks were strew'd with slain:

Jones to the foe his vessel lash'd;

And, while the black artillery flash'd,

Loud thunders shook the main.

Alas! that mortals should employ

Such murdering engines, to destroy

That frame by heav'n so nicely join'd;

Alas! that e'er the god decreed

That brother should by brother bleed,

And pour'd such madness in the mind.

But thou, brave Jones, no blame shalt bear;

The rights of men demand thy care:

For these you dare the greedy waves--

No tyrant on destruction bent

Has planned thy conquests--thou art sent

To humble tyrants and their slaves.

See!--dread _Seraphis_ flames again--

And art thou, Jones, among the slain,

And sunk to Neptune's caves below--

He lives--though crowds around him fall,

Still he, unhurt, survives them all;

Almost alone he fights the foe.

And can thy ship these strokes sustain?

Behold thy brave companions slain,

All clasp'd in ocean's dark embrace.

"Strike, or be sunk!"--the Briton cries--

"Sink, if you can!"--the chief replies,

Fierce lightnings blazing in his face.

Then to the side three guns he drew,

(Almost deserted by his crew)

And charg'd them deep with woe:

By Pearson's flash he aim'd the balls;

His main-mast totters--down it falls--

Tremendous was the blow.[43]

Pearson as yet disdain'd to yield,

But scarce his secret fears conceal'd,

And thus was heard to cry--

"With hell, not mortals, I contend;

"What art thou--human, or a fiend,

"That dost my force defy?

"Return, my lads, the fight renew!"

So call'd bold Pearson to his crew;

But call'd, alas! in vain;

Some on the decks lay maim'd and dead;

Some to their deep recesses fled,

And more were bury'd in the main.[44]

Distress'd, forsaken, and alone,

He haul'd his tatter'd standard down,

And yielded to his gallant foe;

Bold _Pallas_ soon the _Countess_ took,

Thus both their haughty colours struck,

Confessing what the brave can do.

But, Jones, too dearly didst thou buy

These ships possest so gloriously,

Too many deaths disgrac'd the fray:

Thy barque that bore the conquering flame,

That the proud Briton overcame,

Even she forsook thee on thy way;

For when the morn began to shine,

Fatal to her, the ocean brine

Pour'd through each spacious wound;

Quick in the deep she disappear'd,

But Jones to friendly Belgia steer'd,

With conquest and with glory crown'd.

Go on, great man, to daunt the foe,

And bid the haughty Britons know

They to our Thirteen Stars shall bend;

The Stars that veil'd in dark attire,

Long glimmer'd with a feeble fire,

But radiant now ascend;

Bend to the Stars that flaming rise

In western, not in eastern, skies,

Fair Freedom's reign restor'd.

So when the Magi, come from far,

Beheld the God-attending Star,

They trembled and ador'd.

[42] This was the first poem contributed by Freneau to the _Freeman's

Journal_. It appeared August 8, 1781. The exploit of Jones is too well

known to need further comment; it took place September 23, 1779. The

text follows the edition of 1786.

[43] "Overwhelming half below."--_Ed. 1795._

[44] "And hosts were shrouded in the main."--_Ed. 1795._

AN ADDRESS[45]

To the Commander-in-Chief, Officers, and Soldiers of the American

Army

Accept, great men, that share of honest praise

A grateful nation to your merit pays:

Verse is too mean your merit to display,

And words too weak our praises to convey.

When first proud Britain raised her hostile hand

With claims unjust to bind our native land,

Transported armies, and her millions spent

To enforce the mandate that a tyrant sent;

"Resist! resist!" was heard through every state,

You heard the call, and feared your country's fate;

Then rising fierce in arms, for war arrayed,

You taught to vanquish those who dared invade.

Those British chiefs whom former wars had crowned

With conquest--and in every clime renowned;

Who forced new realms to own their monarch's law,

And whom even George beheld with secret awe--

Those mighty chiefs, compelled to fly or yield,

Scarce dared to meet you on the embattled field;

To Boston's port you chased the trembling crew,

Quick, even from thence the British veterans flew--

Through wintry waves they fled, and thought each wave

Their last, best safety from a foe so brave![46]

What men, like you, our warfare could command,

And bring us safely to the promised land?--

Not swoln with pride,[47] with victory elate--

'Tis in misfortune you are doubly great:

When Howe victorious our weak armies chased,

And, sure of conquest, laid Cesarea waste,

When prostrate, bleeding, at his feet she lay,

And the proud victor tore her wreathes away,

Each gallant chief[48] put forth his warlike hand

And raised the drooping genius of the land,

Repelled the foe, their choicest warriors slain,

And drove them howling to their ships again.

While others kindle into martial rage

Whom fierce ambition urges to engage,

An iron race, by angry heaven designed

To conquer first and then enslave mankind;

Here chiefs and heroes[49] more humane we see,

They venture life, that others may be free.

O! may you live to hail that glorious day

When Britain homeward shall pursue her way--

That race subdued, who filled the world with slain

And rode tyrannic o'er the subject main!--

What few presumed, you boldly have atchieved,

A tyrant humbled, and a world relieved.

O Washington, who leadst this glorious train,[50]

Still may the fates thy valued life maintain.--

Rome's boasted chiefs, who, to their own disgrace,

Proved the worst scourges of the human race,

Pierced by whose darts a thousand nations bled,

Who captive princes at their chariots led;

Born to enslave, to ravage, and subdue--

Return to nothing when compared to you;

Throughout the world your growing fame has spread,

In every country are your virtues read;

Remotest India hears your deeds of fame,

The hardy Scythian stammers at your name;

The haughty Turk, now longing to be free,

Neglects his Sultan to enquire of thee;

The barbarous Briton hails you to his shores,

And calls him Rebel, whom his heart adores.

Still may the heavens prolong your vital date,

And still may conquest on your banners wait:

Whether afar to ravaged lands you go,

Where wild Potowmac's rapid waters flow,

Or where Saluda laves the fertile plain

And, swoln by torrents, rushes to the main;

Or if again to Hudson you repair

To smite the cruel foe that lingers there--

Revenge their cause, whose virtue was their crime,

The exiled hosts from Carolina's clime.

Late from the world in quiet mayest thou rise

And, mourned by millions, reach your native skies--

With patriot kings and generous chiefs to shine,

Whose virtues raised them to be deemed divine:

May Vasa[A] only equal honours claim,

Alike in merits--not the first in fame!

[A] Gustavus Vasa of Sweden, the deliverer of his

country.--_Freneau's note._ In the earlier editions

this read _Louis_. First changed for the edition of

1795.

[45] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, September 5, 1781,

under the title "To his Excellency General Washington," and reprinted

without change in the edition of 1786. The same paper contained the

following news item: "On Thursday, the 30th of August, at one o'clock in

the afternoon, his excellency General Washington, Commander-in-chief of

the American Armies, accompanied by the Generals Rochambeau and

Chattelux, with their respective suites, arrived in this city." The

early version was addressed wholly to Washington, the opening line

reading, "Accept, great chief," etc. For the edition of 1795 it was

changed to include officers and soldiers.

[46]

"* * * they fled, and thought the sea

With all its storms less terrible than thee!"--_Ed. 1786._

[47] "Not _Clinton-like_."--_Ib._

[48] "You undismay'd."--_Ib._

[49] "In him a hero."--_Ib._

[50] This and the line following not in the original version.

A NEW-YORK TORY[51]

To His Friend in Philadelphia

Dear Sir, I'm so anxious to hear of your health,

I beg you would send me a letter by stealth:

I hope a few months will quite alter the case,

When the wars are concluded, we'll meet and embrace.

For I'm led to believe from our brilliant success,

And, what is as clear, your amazing distress,

That the cause of rebellion has met with a check

That will bring all its patrons to hang by the neck.

Cornwallis has managed so well in the South,

Those rebels want victuals to put in their mouth;

And Arnold has stript them, we hear, to the buff[52]--

Has burnt their tobacco, and left them--the snuff.

Dear Thomas, I wish you would move from that town

Where meet all the rebels of fame and renown;

When our armies, victorious, shall clear that vile nest

You may chance, though a Tory, to swing with the rest.

But again--on reflection--I beg you would stay--

You may serve us yet better than if moved away--

Give advice to Sir Harry of all that is passing,

What vessels are building, what cargoes amassing;

Inform, to a day, when those vessels will sail,

That our cruisers may capture them all, without fail--

By proceedings like these, your peace will be made,

The rebellious shall swing, but be you ne'er afraid.

I cannot conceive how you do to subsist--

The rebels are starving, except those who 'list;

And as you reside in the land of Gomorrah,

You must fare as the rest do, I think, to your sorrow.

Poor souls! if ye knew what a doom is decreed,

(I mean not for you, but for rebels indeed),

You would tremble to think of the vengeance in store,

The halters and gibbets--I mention no more.

The rebels must surely conclude they're undone,

Their navy is ruined, their armies have run;

It is time they should now from delusion awaken--

The rebellion is done--for the _Trumbull_[53] is taken!

[51] _Freeman's Journal_, September 5, 1781.

[52] Cornwallis, in command of the British army in the South, was in the

early part of 1781 working his way steadily northward from South

Carolina. Benedict Arnold arrived in the Chesapeake, January 2, 1781,

and, supported by the British navy there, committed extensive ravages on

the rivers and unprotected coasts of Virginia. Arnold offered to spare

Richmond if he were given its stores of tobacco. The offer being

rejected, the city with its tobacco was burned.

[53] The American frigate _Trumbull_, 20, Captain James Nicholson, was

chased off the capes of the Delaware, August 8th, 1781, by three British

cruisers. As it was blowing heavily towards night, the fore-topmast of

the _Trumbull_ was carried away by a squall, bringing down with it, on

deck, the main-topgallant mast. About ten o'clock at night, one of the

British vessels, the _Iris_, 32, came up and closed with her while still

encumbered with the wreck. "In the midst of rain and squalls, in a

tempestuous night, with most of the forward hamper of the ship over her

bows, or lying on the forecastle, with one of the arms of the

fore-topsail yard run through her fore-sail, and the other jammed on

deck, and with a disorganized crew, Captain Nicholson found himself

compelled to go to quarters, or to strike without resistance. He

preferred the first; but the English volunteers, instead of obeying

orders, went below, extinguished the lights, and secreted themselves.

Near half of the remainder of the people imitated this example, and

Captain Nicholson could not muster fifty of even the diminished crew he

had, at the guns. The battle that followed might almost be said to have

been fought by the officers. These brave men, sustained by a party of

the petty officers and seamen, managed a few of the guns for more than

an hour, when the _General Monk_, 18, coming up and joining in the

fire of the _Iris_, the _Trumbull_ submitted."--_Cooper's Naval

History._--[_Duyckinck's note, ed. of 1865._]

TO LORD CORNWALLIS[54]

At York, Virginia

Hail, great destroyer (equalled yet by none)

Of countries not your master's, nor your own;

Hatched by some demon on a stormy day,

Satan's best substitute to burn and slay;

Confined at last, hemmed in by land and sea,

Burgoyne himself was but a type of thee!

Like his, to freedom was your deadly hate,

Like his your baseness, and be his your fate:

To you, like him, no prospect Nature yields,

But ruined wastes and desolated fields[55]--

In vain you raise the interposing wall,

And hoist those standards that, like you, must fall,

In you conclude the glories of your race,

Complete your monarch's and your own disgrace.

What has your lordship's pilfering arms attained?--

Vast stores of plunder, but no State regained--

That may return, though you perhaps may groan,

Restore it, Charley,[56] for 'tis not your own--

Then, lord and soldier, headlong to the brine

Rush down at once--the devil and the swine.

Wouldst thou at last with Washington engage,

Sad object of his pity, not his rage?

See, round thy posts how terribly advance

The chiefs, the armies, and the fleets of France;[57]

Fight while you can, for warlike Rochambeau

Aims at your head his last decisive blow,

Unnumbered ghosts from earth untimely sped,

Can take no rest till you, like them, are dead--

Then die, my Lord; that only chance remains

To wipe away dishonourable stains,

For small advantage would your capture bring,

The plundering servant of a bankrupt king.

[54] This did not appear in the _Freeman's Journal_. In the edition of

1786 it bore the title, "To Lord Cornwallis, at York, Virginia, October

8, 1781."

[55] Cornwallis arrived in Virginia from his Southern campaign early in

the summer of 1781, and immediately began with extreme vigor to

subjugate that State. His cruelty and severity were exceptional, even in

the annals of war. "The Americans of that day," says Bancroft, "computed

that Cornwallis, in his midsummer marchings up and down Virginia,

destroyed property to the value of three million pounds sterling."

[56] "Ruffian."--_Ed. 1786._

[57] On October 8th, Cornwallis, at York, was surrounded by the American

army, who had just completed the first line of trenches. The redoubts

were so far enough completed on the 9th that the Americans and French

felt ready to begin the bombardment of the British works.

A LONDON DIALOGUE[58]

Between My Lords, Dunmore and Germaine

_Dunmore_

Ever since I return'd to my dear native shore,

No poet in Grubstreet was ever dunned more--

I'm dunned by my barber, my taylor, my groom;

How can I do else than to fret and to fume?

They join to attack me with one good accord,

From morning till night 'tis "my lord, and my lord."

And there comes the cobler, so often denied--

If I had him in private, I'd thresh his tough hide.

_Germaine_

Would you worry the man that has found you in shoes?

Come, courage, my lord, I can tell you good news--

Virginia is conquered, the rebels are banged,[59]

You are now to go over and see them safe hanged:

I hope it is not to your nature abhorrent

To sign for these wretches a handsome death warrant--

Were I but in your place, I'm sure it would suit

To sign their death warrants, and hang them to boot.

_Dunmore_

My lord!--I'm amazed--have we routed the foe?--

I shall govern again then, if matters be so--

And as to the hanging, in short, to be plain,

I'll hang them so well, they'll ne'er want it again.

With regard to the wretches who thump at my gates,

I'll discharge all their dues with the rebel estates;

In less than three months I may send a polacca

As deep as she'll swim, sir, with corn and tobacco.

_Germaine_

And send us some rebels--a dozen or so--

They'll serve here in London by way of a show;

And as to the Tories, believe me, dear cousin,

We can spare you some hundreds to pay for the dozen.

[58] _Freeman's Journal_, September 19, 1781. The original title, the

one used in the 1786 edition, was "Dialogue between the Lords Dunmore

and Mansfield." Lord Dunmore was Governor of Virginia at the beginning

of the war, in 1775, and was driven from that State by the outraged

colonists. He continued in America, in various capacities, until near

the close of the war. Lord George Germaine was Colonial Secretary under

George III., and so had charge of the American War.

[59] Alluding to the vigorous campaign of Cornwallis. In June, Germaine

had written to Cornwallis: "The rapidity of your movements is justly

matter of astonishment to all Europe." On August 2nd he wrote: "I see

nothing to prevent the recovery of the whole country to the King's

obedience."

LORD CORNWALLIS TO SIR HENRY CLINTON[60]

[From York, Virginia]

From clouds of smoke, and flames that round me glow,

To you, dear Clinton, I disclose my woe:

Here cannons flash, bombs glance, and bullets fly;

Not Arnold's[61] self endures such misery.

Was I foredoomed in tortures[62] to expire,

Hurled to perdition in a blaze of fire?

With these blue flames can mortal man contend--

What arms can aid me, or what walls defend?

Even to these gates last night a phantom strode,

And hailed me trembling to his dark abode:

Aghast I stood, struck motionless and dumb,

Seized with the horrors of the world to come.

Were but my power as mighty as my rage,

Far different battles would Cornwallis wage;

Beneath his sword yon' threat'ning hosts should groan,

The earth would quake with thunders all his own.

O crocodile! had I thy flinty hide,

Swords to defy, and glance the balls aside,

By my own prowess would I rout the foe,

With my own javelin would I work their woe--

But fates averse, by heaven's supreme decree,

Nile's serpent formed more excellent than me.

Has heaven, in secret, for some crime decreed

That I should suffer, and my soldiers bleed?

Or is it by the jealous powers concealed,

That I must bend, and they ignobly yield?

Ah! no--the thought o'erwhelms my soul with grief:

Come, bold Sir Harry, come to my relief;

Come, thou brave man, whom rebels Tombstone call,

But Britons, Graves[63]--come Digby, devil and all;

Come, princely William, with thy potent aid,

Can George's blood by Frenchmen be dismayed?

From a king's uncle once Scotch rebels run,

And shall not these be routed by a son?

Come with your ships to this disastrous shore,

Come--or I sink--and sink to rise no more;

By every motive that can sway the brave

Haste, and my feeble, fainting army save;

Come, and lost empire o'er the deep regain,

Chastise these upstarts that usurp the main;

I see their first rates to the charge advance,

I see lost _Iris_ wear the flags of France;

There a strict rule the wakeful Frenchman keeps;

There, on no bed of down, Lord Rawdon sleeps!

Tired with long acting on this bloody stage,

Sick of the follies of a wrangling age,

Come with your fleet, and help me to retire

To Britain's coast, the land of my desire--

For, me the foe their certain captive deem,

And every trifler[64] takes me for his theme--

Long, much too long in this hard service tried,

Bespattered still, be-deviled, and belied;

With the first chance that favouring fortune sends

I fly, converted, from this land of fiends;

Convinced, for me, she has no gems in store,

Nor leaves one triumph, even to hope for more.

[60] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, October 17, 1781, two

days before the final surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown. "On the

seventeenth [of September] Cornwallis reported to Clinton: 'This place

is in no state of defence. If you cannot relieve me very soon, you must

be prepared to hear the worst.'"--_Bancroft._

[61] "Satan's self."--_Ed. 1786._

[62] "Like Korah."--_Ib._

[63] "Lord Sandwich, after the retirement of Howe, gave the naval

command at New York to officers without ability; and the aged Arbuthnot

was succeeded by Graves, a coarse and vulgar man of mean ability, and

without skill in his profession."--_Bancroft._

[64] "School-boy."--_Ed. 1786._

THE VANITY OF EXISTENCE[65]

To Thyrsis

In youth, gay scenes attract our eyes,

And not suspecting their decay

Life's flowery fields before us rise,

Regardless of its winter day.

But vain pursuits and joys as vain,

Convince us life is but a dream.

Death is to wake, to rise again

To that true life you best esteem.

So nightly on some shallow tide,

Oft have I seen a splendid show;

Reflected stars on either side,

And glittering moons were seen below.

But when the tide had ebbed away,

The scene fantastic with it fled,

A bank of mud around me lay,

And sea-weed on the river's bed.

[65] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, October 24, 1781, under the

title "A Moral Thought," and reprinted without change in the edition

of 1786.

ON THE FALL OF GENERAL EARL CORNWALLIS

Who, with above seven thousand Men, surrendered themselves

prisoners of war to the renowned and illustrious General GEORGE

WASHINGTON, Commander-in-chief of the allied armies of France

and America, on the memorable 19th of _October_, 1781.[66]

"Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths,

"That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile

"_Ad manes fratrum_ sacrifice his flesh,

"Before this earthly prison of their bones;

"That so the shadows be not unappeas'd,

"Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth."

--_Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus_, Act I, Scene II.

A Chieftain join'd with[67] Howe, Burgoyne, and Gage,

Once more, nor this the last, provokes my rage--

Who saw these Nimrods first for conquest burn!

Who has not seen them to the dust return?

This ruffian[68] next, who scour'd our ravag'd fields,

Foe to the human race,[69] Cornwallis yields!--

None e'er before essay'd such desperate crimes,

Alone he stood, arch-butcher of the times,

Rov'd uncontroul'd this wasted country o'er,

Strew'd plains with dead, and bath'd his jaws with gore?[70]

'Twas thus the wolf, who sought by night his prey,

And plunder'd all he met with on his way,

Stole what he could, and murder'd as he pass'd,

Chanc'd on a trap, and lost his head at last.

What pen can write, what human tongue can tell

The endless murders of this man of hell![71]

Nature in him disgrac'd the form divine;

Nature mistook, she meant him for a--swine:

That eye his forehead to her shame adorns;

Blush! nature, blush--bestow him tail and horns!--

By him the orphans mourn--the widow'd dame

Saw ruin spreading in the wasteful flame;

Gash'd o'er with wounds beheld with streaming eye

A son, a brother, or a consort, die!--

Through ruin'd realms bones lie without a tomb,

And souls he sped to their eternal doom,

Who else had liv'd, and seen their toils again

Bless'd by the genius of the rural reign.

But turn your eyes, and see the murderer fall,[72]

Then say--"Cornwallis has atchiev'd it all."--

Yet he preserves the honour and the fame

That vanquish'd heroes only ought to claim--

Is he a hero!--Read, and you will find

Heroes are beings of a different kind:--

Compassion to the worst of men is due,

And mercy heaven's first attribute, 'tis true;

Yet most presume it was too nobly done

To grant mild terms to Satan's first-born son.

Convinc'd we are, no foreign spot on earth

But Britain only, gave this reptile[73] birth.

That white-cliff'd isle, the vengeful dragon's[74] den,

Has sent us monsters where we look'd for men.

When memory paints their horrid deeds anew,

And brings these murdering miscreants to your view,

Then ask the leaders of these bloody bands,

Can they expect compassion at our hands?--

But may this year, the glorious eighty-one,

Conclude successful, as it first begun;[75]

This brilliant year their total downfall see,

And what Cornwallis is, may Clinton be.[76]

O come the time, nor distant be the day,

When our bold navy shall its wings display;

Mann'd by our sons, to seek that barbarous shore,[77]

The wrongs revenging that their fathers bore:

As Samuel hew'd the tyrant Agag down,[78]

So hew the wearer of the British crown;

Unpitying, next his hated offspring slay,

Or into foreign lands the fiends convey:[79]

Give them their turn to pine and die in chains,

'Till not one monster[80] of the race remains.

Thou, who resid'st on those thrice happy shores,

Where white rob'd peace her envied blessings pours,

Stay, and enjoy the pleasures that she yields;

But come not, stranger, to our wasted fields,

For warlike hosts on every plain appear,

War damps the beauties of the rising year:

In vain the groves their bloomy sweets display;

War's clouded winter chills the charms of May:

Here human blood the trampled harvest stains;

Here bones of men yet whiten all the plains;

Seas teem with dead; and our unhappy shore

Forever blushes with its children's gore.

But turn your eyes--behold the tyrant fall,

And think[81]--Cornwallis has atchiev'd it all.--

All mean revenge Americans disdain,

Oft have they prov'd it, and now prove again;

With nobler fires their generous bosoms glow;

Still in the captive they forget the foe:--

But when a nation takes a wrongful cause,

And hostile turns to heaven's and nature's laws;

When, sacrificing at ambition's shrine,

Kings slight the mandates of the power divine,

And devastation spread on every side,

To gratify their malice or their pride,

And send their slaves their projects to fulfil,

To wrest our freedom, or our blood to spill:--

Such to forgive, is virtue too sublime;

For even compassion has been found a crime.

A prophet once, for miracles renown'd,

Bade Joash smite the arrows on the ground--

Taking the mystic shafts, the prince obey'd,

Thrice smote them on the earth--and then he stay'd--

Griev'd when he saw full victory deny'd,

"Six times you should have smote," the prophet cry'd,

"Then had proud Syria sunk beneath thy power,

"Now thrice you smite her--but shall smite no more."

Cornwallis! thou art rank'd among the great;

Such was the will of all-controuling fate.

As mighty men, who liv'd in days of yore,

Were figur'd out some centuries before;

So you with them in equal honour join,

Your great precursor's name was Jack Burgoyne!

Like you was he, a man in arms renown'd,

Who, hot for conquest, sail'd the ocean round;

This, this was he, who scour'd the woods for praise,

And burnt down cities[A] to describe the blaze!

So, while on fire, his harp Rome's tyrant strung,

And as the buildings flam'd, old Nero sung.

Who would have guess'd the purpose of the fates,

When that proud boaster bow'd to conquering Gates!--

Then sung the sisters[B] as the wheel went round,

(Could we have heard the invigorating sound)

Thus surely did the fatal sisters sing--

"When just four years do this same season bring,

"And in his annual journey, when the sun

"Four times completely shall his circuit run,

"An angel then shall rid you of your fears,

"By binding Satan for a thousand years,

"Shall lash the serpent[82] to the infernal shore,

"To waste the nations and deceive no more,

"Make wars and blood, and tyranny to cease,

"And hush the fiends of Britain[83] into peace."

Joy to your lordship, and your high descent,

You are the Satan that the sisters meant.

Too soon you found your race of ruin run,

Your conquests ended, and your battles done!

But that to live is better than to die,

And life you chose, though life with infamy,

You should have climb'd your loftiest vessel's deck,[84]

And hung a millstone round your halter'd neck--[85]

Then plung'd forever to the wat'ry bed,

Hell in your heart, and vengeance on your head.[86]

All must confess, that in regard to you,[87]

'Twas wrong to rob the devil of his due--

For Hayne, for Hayne![88] no death but thine atones;

For thee, Cornwallis, how the gallows groans!

That injur'd man's, and all the blood you've shed,

That blood shall rest on your devoted head;

Asham'd to live, and yet afraid to die,

Your courage slacken'd as the foe drew nigh--

Ungrateful wretch, to yield your favourite band

To chains and prisons in a hostile land:

To the wide world your Negro friends to cast,

And leave your Tories to be hang'd at last!--

You should have fought with horror and amaze,

'Till scorch'd to cinders in the cannon blaze,

'Till all your host of Beelzebubs[89] was slain,

Doom'd to disgrace no human shape again--

As if from hell this horned host he drew,[90]

Swift from the South the embodied ruffians[91] flew;

Destruction follow'd at their cloven feet,

'Till you, Fayette, constrain'd them to retreat,

And held them close, 'till thy fam'd squadron came,

De Grasse, completing their eternal shame.

When the loud cannon's unremitting glare

And red hot balls compell'd you to despair,

How could you stand to meet your generous foe?

Did not the sight confound your soul with woe?--

In thy great soul what god-like virtues shine,

What inborn greatness, Washington, is thine!--

Else had no prisoner trod these lands to-day,

All, with his lordship, had been swept away,

All doom'd alike death's vermin to regale,

Nor one been left to tell the dreadful tale!

But his own terms the vanquish'd murderer[92] nam'd--

He nobly gave the miscreant[93] all he claim'd,

And bade Cornwallis, conquer'd and distress'd,

Bear all his torments in his tortur'd breast.

Now curs'd with life, a foe to man and God,

Like Cain, I drive you to the land of Nod.

He with a brother's blood his hands did stain,

One brother he, you have a thousand slain.

And, O! may heaven affix some public mark[94]

To know Cornwallis--may he howl and bark!--

On eagle's wings explore your downward flight[95]

To the deep horrors of the darkest night,[96]

Where, rapt in shade on ocean's utmost bound,[97]

No longer sun, nor moon, nor stars are found;

Where never light her kindling radiance shed,

But the dark comets rove with all their dead,[C]

Doom'd through the tracks of endless space to run

No more revolving to confound the sun.

Such horrid deeds your spotted soul[98] defame

We grieve to think your shape and ours the same!

Enjoy what comfort in this life you can,[99]

The form you have, not feelings of a man;

Haste to the rocks, thou curse to human kind,

There thou may'st wolves and brother tygers find;

Eternal exile be your righteous doom

And gnash your dragon's teeth in some sequester'd gloom;

Such be the end of each relentless foe

Who feels no pity for another's woe;

So may they fall[100]--even you, though much too late,

Shall curse the day you languished to be great;

Haste from the torments of the present life,[101]

Quick, let the halter end thee or the knife;

So may destruction rush with speedy wing,

Low as yourself, to drag your cruel king;[102]

His head torn off, his hands, his feet, and all,[103]

Deep in the dust may Dagon's image fall;

His stump alone escape the vengeful steel,

Sav'd but to grace the gibbet or the wheel.

[A] Charlestown, near Boston. See his letter on that

occasion.--_Freneau's note._ The poet has satirized

Burgoyne's literary pretentions in the "Voyage to

Boston," _q. v._

[B] The _Parcae_, or _Fates_, who, according to the Heathen

mythology, were three in number.--_Ib._

[C] See Whiston's Hypothesis.--_Freneau's note._

[66] This title was changed for the edition of 1795 by leaving out the

words "the renowned and illustrious General George Washington,

Commander-in-chief of," and also the quotation from Shakespeare. The

same title was used in 1809, with the added quotation:

"_One brilliant game our arms have won to-day,

Another_, PRINCES, _yet remains to play,

Another mark our arrows must attain--_

GALLIA _assist!--nor be our efforts vain_."

--_Hom. Odyssey, Book XXII._

In the issue of the _Freeman's Journal_ of October 24, 1781, the editor

voiced his joy by printing the following in huge letters, that covered

more than half of the first page of the paper:

BE IT REMEMBERED

That on the 17th day of October, 1781, Lieut. General Charles Earl

Cornwallis with above 5000 British troops surrendered themselves

prisoners of war to his excellency Gen. George Washington,

commander in chief of the allied forces of France and America.

LAUS DEO!--

Two weeks later, in the issue of November 7th, Freneau printed the above

poem. It was so mutilated and changed for the edition of 1795 that I

have reproduced the test of the 1786 edition, which was printed verbatim

from the newspaper, and have indicated in the footnotes the most

significant changes.

[67] "Formed on."--_Ed. 1795._

[68] "Conqueror."--_Ib._

[69] "Foe to the rights of man."--_Ib._

[70] This does not overdo the contemporary estimate of Cornwallis.

Attempting to crush at once the American rebellion by the use of the

harshest measures, he inaugurated a veritable reign of terror. "Cruel

measures seek and find cruel agents; officers whose delight was in

blood patrolled the country, burned houses, ravaged estates, and put

to death whom they would.... For two years cold-blooded assassinations,

often in the house of the victim and in the presence of his wife and

little children, were perpetrated by men holding the king's

commission."--_Bancroft._

[71] "Lord of war."--_Ed. 1795._

[72] This line and the nine following lines were omitted from the

edition of 1795.

[73] "Warrior."--_Ed. 1795._

[74] "Tyrant's."--_Ib._

[75] "And all wars be done."--_Ib._

[76] "Sir Henry be."--_Ib._

[77] "Manned by brave souls, to see the British shore."--_Ib._

[78] "As earthquakes shook the huge Colossus down."--_Ed. 1795._

[79] "By force convey."--_Ib._

[80] "Tyrant."--_Ib._

[81] "Nor say."--_Ib._

[82] "His godship."--_Ed. 1795._

[83] "The rage of Europe."--_Ib._

[84] "Mast."--_Ib._

[85] "Took one sad survey of your wanton waste."--_Ib._

[86] "Lost all your honours--even your memory dead."--_Ib._

[87] This and the five following lines omitted in edition of 1795.

[88] An allusion to the brutal execution of the patriot, Isaac Hayne, of

Charlestown, by General Rawdon, in the summer of 1781. The guilt of this

crime rests almost wholly upon Rawdon. Yet "his first excuse for the

execution was in the order of Cornwallis which had filled the woods of

Carolina with assassins."--_Bancroft._

[89] "Gog-magogs."--_Ed. 1795._

[90] "From depth of woods this hornet host he drew."--_Ib._

[91] "Envenom'd ruffians."--_Ib._

[92] "The mean invader."--_Ib._

[93] "The prisoner."--_Ib._

[94] This line and the next omitted from later editions.

[95] "Homeward flight."--_Ed. 1795._

[96] "Plan future conquests and new battles fight."--_Ib._

[97] This and the following five lines omitted from later editions.

[98] "Your murdering host."--_Ed. 1795._

[99] This and the following seven lines omitted from later editions.

[100] "Remorse be theirs."--_Ed. 1809._

[101] This line and the following omitted from later editions.

[102] "Each tyrant king."--_Ed. 1809._

[103] The later editions end at this point as follows:

"Swept from this stage, the race that vex our ball,

Deep in the dust may every monarch fall,

To wasted nations bid a long adieu,

Shrink from an injured world--and fare like you."

TO THE MEMORY OF THE BRAVE AMERICANS[104]

Under General Greene, in South Carolina, who fell in the action of

September 8, 1781

At Eutaw Springs the valiant died;

Their limbs with dust are covered o'er--

Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;

How many heroes are no more![105]

If in this wreck of ruin, they

Can yet be thought to claim a tear,

O smite your gentle breast, and say

The friends of freedom slumber here!

Thou, who shalt trace this bloody plain,

If goodness rules thy generous breast,

Sigh for the wasted rural reign;

Sigh for the shepherds, sunk to rest!

Stranger, their humble graves adorn;

You too may fall, and ask a tear;

'Tis not the beauty of the morn

That proves the evening shall be clear.--

They saw their injured country's woe;

The flaming town, the wasted field;

Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;

They took the spear--but left the shield.[106]

Led by thy conquering genius, Greene,

The Britons they compelled to fly;

None distant viewed the fatal plain,

None grieved, in such a cause to die--

But, like the Parthian, famed of old.

Who, flying, still their arrows threw,

These routed Britons, full as bold,

Retreated, and retreating slew.[107]

Now rest in peace, our patriot band;

Though far from nature's limits thrown,

We trust they find a happier land,

A brighter sunshine of their own.

[104] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, November 21, 1781. The

patriot army under Greene spent the summer of 1781 in the High Hills of

Santee, in South Carolina. "On the 22d of August, Greene broke up his

camp very quietly and started out on the last of his sagacious

campaigns.... By vigilant scouting parties, he so completely cut off the

enemy's means of information that Stuart remained ignorant of his

approach until he was close at hand. The British commander then fell

back on Eutaw Springs, about fifty miles from Charleston, where he

waited in a strong position. The battle of Eutaw Springs may be resolved

into two brief actions between sunrise and noon of the 8th of September,

1781. In the first action the British line was broken and driven from

the field. In the second, Stuart succeeded in forming a new line,

supported by a brick house and palisaded garden, and from this position

Greene was unable to drive him. It has therefore been set down as a

British victory. If so, it was a victory followed the next evening by

the hasty retreat of the victors, who were hotly pursued by Marion and

Lee."--_Fiske._

[105] "In the two engagements the Americans lost in killed, wounded, and

missing, five hundred and fifty-four men."--_Bancroft._

[106] Scott borrowed this line in the introduction to the third canto of

_Marmion_, in the apostrophe to the Duke of Brunswick, which reads thus:

"Lamented Chief!--not thine the power

To save in that presumptuous hour,

When Prussia hurried to the field

And snatched the spear but left the shield."

[107] After the first engagement the British fled in confusion. Greene,

in his eagerness, pursued them too closely, and sheltered by the brick

house, they inflicted upon the advancing Americans the greater part of

the loss of life incurred during the battle.

ARNOLD'S DEPARTURE[108]

Imitated from Horace

"_Mala soluta navis exit alite

Ferens olentem Maevium_," &c.

With evil omens from the harbour sails

The ill-fated barque that worthless Arnold bears,--

God of the southern winds, call up the gales,

And whistle in rude fury round his ears.

With horrid waves insult his vessel's sides,

And may the east wind on a leeward shore

Her cables part while she in tumult rides,

And shatter into shivers every oar.

And let the north wind to her ruin haste,

With such a rage, as when from mountains high

He rends the tall oak with his weighty blast,

And ruin spreads where'er his forces fly.

May not one friendly star that night be seen;

No moon, attendant, dart one glimmering ray,

Nor may she ride on oceans more serene

Than Greece, triumphant, found that stormy day,

When angry Pallas spent her rage no more

On vanquished Ilium, then in ashes laid,

But turned it on the barque that Ajax[A] bore,

Avenging thus her temple and the maid.

[A] Ajax the younger, son of Oileus, king of the Locrians. He

debauched Cassandra in the temple of Pallas, which was the

cause of his misfortune on his return from the siege of

Troy.--_Freneau's note._

When tossed upon the vast Atlantic main

Your groaning ship the southern gales shall tear,

How will your sailors sweat, and you complain

And meanly howl to Jove, that will not hear!

But if, at last, upon some winding shore

A prey to hungry cormorants you lie,

A wanton goat to every stormy power,[B]

And a fat lamb, in sacrifice, shall die.

[B] The _Tempests_ were Goddesses amongst the Romans.--_Ib._

[108] First published in the July 10, 1782, issue of the _Freeman's

Journal_, under the title "The 10th Ode Horace's Book of Epodes

Imitated. Written in December, 1781, upon the departure of General

Arnold from New-York." The poem was reprinted verbatim in the 1786

edition.

"The capitulation at Yorktown having virtually put an end to the war,

and Arnold, finding himself neither respected by the British officers

nor likely to be further employed in the service, obtained permission

from Sir Henry Clinton to go to England. He sailed from New York with

his family in December, 1781."--_Sparks' Life of Arnold._

PLATO, THE PHILOSOPHER, TO HIS FRIEND THEON[109]

_Semel omnibus calcanda via Lethi._--Hor.

Why, Theon, wouldst thou longer groan

Beneath a weight of years and woe,

Thy youth is lost, thy pleasures flown,

And time proclaims, "'Tis time to go."

To willows sad and weeping yews

With me a while, dear friend, repair,[110]

Nor to the vault thy steps refuse,

Thy constant home shall soon be there.

To summer suns and winter moons

Prepare to bid a long adieu,

Autumnal seasons shall return

And spring shall bloom, but not for you.

Why so perplext with cares and toil

To rest upon this darksome road,

'Tis but a thin, a thirsty soil,

A barren and a bleak abode.

Constrain'd to dwell with pain and care,

These dregs of life are bought too dear,

'Tis better far to die than bear

The torments of another year.[111]

Subjected to perpetual ills

A thousand deaths around us grow,

The frost the tender blossom kills,

And roses wither as they blow.

Cold nipping winds thy fruits assail,

The infant[112] apple seeks the ground,

The peaches fall, the cherries fail,

The grape receives a fatal wound.

The breeze that gently ought to blow

Swells to a storm and rends the main,

The sun that charm'd the grass to grow

Turns hostile and consumes the plain;

The mountains waste, the shores decay,

Once purling streams are dead and dry--

'Twas nature's work--'tis nature's play,

And nature says that all must die.

Yon' flaming lamp, the source of light,

In chaos dark shall shroud his beam

And leave the world to mother night,

A farce, a phantom, or a dream.

What now is young must soon be old,

Whate'er we love, we soon must leave,

'Tis now too hot, 'tis now too cold--

To live is nothing but to grieve.

How bright the morn her course begun,

No mists bedimm'd the solar sphere--

The clouds arise--they shade the sun,

For nothing can be constant here.

Now hope the longing soul employs,

In expectation we are blest;

But soon the airy phantom flies,

For, lo! the treasure is possest.

Those monarchs proud that havoc spread,

(While pensive nature[113] dropt a tear)

Those monarchs have to darkness fled

And ruin bounds their mad career.

The grandeur of this earthly round,

Where Theon[114] would forever be,

Is but a name, is but a sound--

Mere emptiness and vanity.

Give me the stars, give me the skies,

Give me the heaven's remotest sphere,

Above these gloomy scenes to rise

Of desolation and despair.

Those native fires that warmed the mind

Now languid grown too dimly glow,

Joy has to grief the heart resigned

And love itself is changed to woe.

The joys of wine are all you boast,

These for a moment damp thy pain;

The gleam is o'er, the charm is lost--

And darkness clouds the soul again.

Then seek no more for bliss below,

Where real bliss can ne'er be found,

Aspire where sweeter blossoms blow

And fairer flowers bedeck the ground.

Where plants of life the plains invest

And green eternal crowns the year,

The little god within thy breast[115]

Is weary of his mansion here.

Like Phosphor clad in bright array[116]

His height meridian to regain,

He can, nor will no longer stay[117]

To shiver on a frozen plain.

Life's journey past, for death[118] prepare,

'Tis but the freedom of the mind,

Jove made us mortal--his we are,

To Jove, dear Theon,[119] be resigned.

[109] _Freeman's Journal_, January 2, 1782. In the editions of 1795 and

1809, the title is "To an Old Man."

[110] "With me a while, old man, repair."--_Ed. 1795._

[111] "The torments of life's closing year."--_Ed. 1795._

[112] "Blasted."--_Ib._

[113] "Reason."--_Ed. 1795._

[114] "Folly."--_Ib._

[115] "That swells the breast."--_Ed. 1795._

[116] "Sent before the day."--_Ib._

[117] "The dawn arrives--he must not stay."--_Ib._

[118] "Fate."--_Ib._

[119] "Be all our cares."--_Ib._

PROLOGUE[120]

To a Theatrical Entertainment in Philadelphia

Wars, cruel wars, and hostile Britain's rage

Have banished long the pleasures of the stage;

From the gay painted scene compelled to part,

(Forgot the melting language of the heart)

Constrained to shun the bold theatric show,

To act long tragedies of real woe,

Heroes, once more attend the comic muse;

Forget our failings, and our faults excuse.

In that fine language is our fable drest

Which still unrivalled, reigns o'er all the rest;

Of foreign courts the study and the pride,

Who to know this abandon all beside;

Bold, though polite, and ever sure to please;

Correct with grace, and elegant with ease;

Soft from the lips its easy accents roll,

Formed to delight and captivate the soul:

In this _Eugenia_ tells her easy lay,

The brilliant work of courtly Beaumarchais:

In this Racine, Voltaire, and Boileau sung,

The noblest poets in the noblest tongue.

If the soft story in our play expressed

Can give a moment's pleasure to your breast,

To you, Great Men,[121] we must be proud to say

That moment's pleasure shall our pains repay:

Returned from conquest and from glorious toils,

From armies captured and unnumbered spoils;

Ere yet again, with generous France allied,

You rush to battle, humbling British pride;

While arts of peace your kind protection share,

O let the Muses claim an equal care.

You bade us first our future greatness see,

Inspired by you, we languished to be free;

Even here where Freedom lately sat distrest,

See, a new Athens rising in the west!

Fair science blooms, where tyrants reigned before,

Red war, reluctant, leaves our ravaged shore--

Illustrious heroes, may you live to see

These new Republics powerful, great, and free;

Peace, heaven born peace, o'er spacious regions spread,

While discord, sinking, veils her ghastly head.

[120] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, January 9, 1782, with

the following introduction: "On Wednesday evening, the 2d instant

[January 2, 1782] Alex. Quesnay, Esq., exhibited a most elegant

entertainment at the playhouse, where were present his excellency Gen.

Washington, the Minister of France, the President of the State, a number

of officers of the army, and a brilliant assemblage of ladies and

gentlemen of the city who were invited. After a prologue suitable to

the occasion, EUGENIE, an elegant French comedy, was first presented

(written by the celebrated M. Beaumarchais), and in the opinion of

several good judges was extremely well acted by the young gentlemen

students in that polite language. After the comedy was acted the LYING

VARLET, a farce; to this succeeded several curious dances, followed by

a brilliant illumination, consisting of thirteen pyramidal pillars,

representing the thirteen States,--on the middle column was seen a

cupid, supporting a laurel crown over the motto, 'WASHINGTON, _the pride

of his Country and terror of Britain_.' On the summit was the word

_Virginia_, on the right _Connecticut_, with the names GREENE and LA

FAYETTE, on the left the word _Pennsylvania_, with the names WAYNE and

STEUBEN, and so on according to the birthplace and State proper to each

general. The spectacle ended with an artificial illumination of the

thirteen columns."

The prologue, written at the request of Mr. Quesnay, is as above.

[121] In the 1786 version, which was reprinted verbatim from the

newspaper, this read "Great Sir," with the foot-note, "Addressed to His

Excellency General Washington," and the rest of the poem was made to

refer solely to him. In the later versions this was changed so as to

read, "Addressed to the Commander in Chief and several of the officers

of the American army then present at the theatre in Southwark."

STANZAS[122]

Occasioned by the Ruins of a Country Inn, unroofed and blown down

in a storm

Where now these mingled ruins lie

A temple once to Bacchus rose,

Beneath whose roof, aspiring high,

Full many a guest forgot his woes:

No more this dome, by tempests torn,

Affords a social safe retreat;

But ravens here, with eye forlorn,

And clustering bats henceforth will meet.

The Priestess of this ruined shrine,

Unable to survive the stroke,

Presents no more the ruddy wine,

Her glasses gone, her china broke.

The friendly Host, whose social hand

Accosted strangers at the door,

Has left at length his wonted stand,

And greets the weary guest no more.

Old creeping Time, that brings decay,

Might yet have spared these mouldering walls,

Alike beneath whose potent sway

A temple or a tavern falls.

Is this the place where mirth and joy,

Coy nymphs and sprightly lads were found?

Indeed! no more the nymphs are coy,

No more the flowing bowls go round.

Is this the place where festive song

Deceived the wintry hours away?

No more the swains the tune prolong,

No more the maidens join the lay:

Is this the place where Nancy slept

In downy beds of blue and green?--

Dame Nature here no vigils kept,

No cold unfeeling guards were seen.

'Tis gone!--and Nancy tempts no more,

Deep, unrelenting silence reigns;

Of all that pleased, that charmed before,

The tottering chimney scarce remains!

Ye tyrant winds, whose ruffian blast

Through doors and windows blew too strong,

And all the roof to ruin cast,

The roof that sheltered us so long.

Your wrath appeased, I pray be kind

If Mopsus should the dome renew;

That we again may quaff his wine,

Again collect our jovial crew.

[122] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, January 23, 1782.

THE ROYAL ADVENTURER[123]

Prince William of the Brunswick race,

To witness George's sad disgrace

The Royal Lad came over

Rebels to kill by Right Divine--

Deriv'd from that illustrious line

The beggars of Hanover.

So many chiefs got broken pates

In vanquishing the rebel States,

So many nobles fell,

That George the Third in passion cry'd,

"Our royal blood must now be try'd;

"'Tis that must break the spell:

"To you (the fat pot-valiant Swine

To Digby said) dear friend of mine,

"To you I trust my boy.

"The rebel tribes shall quake with fears,

"Rebellion die when he appears;

"My Tories leap with joy."

So said, so done--the boy was sent,

But never reach'd the continent,

An Island held him fast--

Yet there his friends danc'd rigadoons,

The Hessians sung in High Dutch tunes,

"Prince William's come at last."

"Prince William comes!"--the Briton cry'd--

"The glory of our empire wide

"Shall now be soon restor'd--

"Our monarch is in William seen,

"He is the image of our queen,

"Let William be ador'd!"

The Tories came with long address,

With poems groan'd the Royal press,

And all in William's praise--

The boy astonish'd look'd about

To find their vast dominions out,

Then answer'd in amaze,

"Where all your empire wide can be,

"Friends, for my soul I cannot see:

"'Tis but an empty name;

"Three wasted islands and a town

"In rubbish bury'd--half burnt down,

"Is all that we can claim:

"I am of royal birth, 'tis true,

"But what, alas! can princes do,

"No armies to command?

"Cornwallis conquer'd and distrest,

"Sir Henry Clinton grown a jest,

"I curse and leave the land."

[123] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, January 30, 1782. "Prince

William Henry, third son of George III, afterwards William IV, entered

the navy as midshipman at the age of fourteen in 1779. He sailed in the

_Prince George_ of 98 guns to Gibralter, in the course of which cruise

he saw some service under Rodney in conflict with the Spanish fleet; and

it was in this ship, accompanied by Admiral Digby, that he arrived at

New York in September, 1781."--_Duyckinck._ He was received with great

enthusiasm and ceremony. In the _Freeman's Journal_ of January 25, 1782,

was the following, doubtless from the pen of Freneau: "It is observable

that the arrival of Prince William Henry in New York filled the British

with 'joy ineffable and universal.' The very chimney sweeps, smitten

with the poetic flame, composed odes in his praise, some of which were

inserted in _The Royal Gazette_." The 1809 edition was given a long

French motto from Mirabeau, which Freneau translates as follows: "The

favourites of a throne bask in its sunshine, like butterflies in a fine

day. Their very slaves at the foot of royalty partake of the delusion.

They keep a nation under their feet, and their every folly influences

and is followed by the multitude. They care not if their fathers and

their nearest relatives are trampled into the dust, provided _they_ can

figure away in the circles of a court, etc."

LORD DUNMORE'S PETITION TO THE LEGISLATURE OF VIRGINIA[124]

_Humbly Sheweth--_

That a silly old fellow, much noted of yore,

And known by the name of John, earl of Dunmore,

Has again ventured over to visit your shore.

The reason of this he begs leave to explain--

In England they said you were conquered and slain,

(But the devil take him who believes them again)--

So, hearing that most of you rebels were dead,

That some had submitted, and others had fled,

I mustered my Tories, myself at their head,

And over we scudded, our hearts full of glee,

As merry as ever poor devils could be,

Our ancient dominion, Virginia, to see;

Our shoe-boys, and tars, and the very cook's mate

Already conceived he possessed an estate,

And the Tories no longer were cursing their fate.

Myself, (the don Quixote) and each of the crew,

Like Sancho, had islands and empires in view--

They were captains, and kings, and the devil knows who:

But now, to our sorrow, disgrace, and surprise,

No longer deceived by the Father of Lies,[A]

We hear with our ears, and we see with our eyes:--

[A] The printer of the Royal Gazette.--_Freneau's note, ed.

of 1786._

I have therefore to make you a modest request,

(And I'm sure, in my mind, it will be for the best)

Admit me again to your mansions of rest.

There are Eden, and Martin, and Franklin, and Tryon,[125]

All waiting to see you submit to the Lion,

And may wait till the devil is king of Mount Sion:--

Though a brute and a dunce, like the rest of the clan,

I can govern as well as most Englishmen can;

And if I'm a drunkard, I still am a man:

I missed it some how in comparing my notes,

Or six years ago I had joined with your votes;

Not aided the negroes in cutting your throats.[126]

Although with so many hard names I was branded,

I hope you'll believe, (as you will if you're candid)

That I only performed what my master commanded.

Give me lands, whores and dice, and you still may be free;

Let who will be master, we sha'nt disagree;

If king or if Congress--no matter to me;--

I hope you will send me an answer straitway,

For 'tis plain that at Charleston we cannot long stay--

And your humble petitioner ever shall pray.

DUNMORE.

CHARLESTON, _Jan. 6, 1782_.

[124] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, February 13, 1782, and

printed almost without change in the various editions. Lord Dunmore was

appointed Royal Governor of Virginia in 1770, but, after a stormy career

was forced to flee from the colony after the news of Lexington had

reached the Southern patriots.

[125] "The last Royal Governors: Robert Eden of Maryland; Joseph Martin

of North Carolina; William Franklin of New Jersey; William Tryon of New

York."--_Duyckinck._

[126] After the second patriot convention assembled in Richmond, Va., in

March, 1775, to take measures toward putting the colony in a state of

defence, Dunmore, "To intimidate the Virginians, issued proclamations

and circulated a rumor that he would incite an insurrection of their

slaves.... 'The whole country,' said he, 'can easily be made a solitude;

and by the living God! if any insult is offered to me or to those who

have obeyed my orders, I will declare freedom to the slaves and lay the

town in ashes.'"--_Bancroft._

EPIGRAM[127]

Occasioned by the title of Mr. Rivington's[A] New York Royal

Gazette being scarcely legible

[A] Royal printer to his Britannic majesty while his forces

held the city of New York, from 1776 to November 25,

1783.--_Freneau's note._

Says Satan to Jemmy, "I hold you a bet

"That you mean to abandon our Royal Gazette,

"Or, between you and me, you would manage things better

"Than the Title to print on so sneaking a letter.

"Now being connected so long in the art

"It would not be prudent at present to part;

"And people, perhaps, would be frightened, and fret

"If the devil alone carried on the Gazette."

Says Jemmy to Satan (by the way of a wipe),

"Who gives me the matter should furnish the type;

"And why you find fault, I can scarcely divine,

"For the types, like the printer, are certainly thine.

"'Tis yours to deceive with the semblance of truth,

"Thou friend of my age, and thou guide of my youth!

"But, to prosper, pray send me some further supplies,

"A sett of new types, and a sett of new lies."

[127] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, February 13, 1782.

A SPEECH[128]

That should have been spoken by the King of the Island of Britain

to his Parliament

My lords, I can hardly from weeping refrain,

When I think of this year and its cursed campaign;[129]

But still it is folly to whine and to grieve,

For things will yet alter, I hope and believe.

Of the four southern States we again are bereav'd,

They were just in our grasp (or I'm sadly deceiv'd):

There are wizards and witches that dwell in those lands,

For the moment we gain them, they slip from our hands.

Our prospects at present most gloomy appear;

Cornwallis returns with a flea in his ear,

Sir Henry is sick of his station we know--

And Amherst, though press'd, is unwilling to go.

The Hero[130] that steer'd for the cape of Good Hope

With Monsieur Suffrein was unable to cope--

Many months are elaps'd, yet his task is to do--

To conquer the cape, and to conquer Peru:

When his squadron at Portsmouth he went to equip

He promis'd great things from his fifty-gun ship;

But let him alone--while he knows which is which,

He'll not be so ready "_to die in a ditch_."

This session, I thought to have told you thus much,

"A treaty concluded, and peace with the Dutch"--

But as stubborn as ever, they vapour and brag,

And sail by my nose with the Prussian flag.

The empress refuses to join on our side,

As yet with the Indians we're only ally'd:

(Though such an alliance is rather improper,

For we English are white, but their colour is copper.)

The Irish, I fear, have some mischief in view;

They ever have been a most troublesome crew--

If a truce or a treaty hereafter be made,

They shall pay very dear for their present free trade.

Dame Fortune, I think, has our standards forsaken,

For Tobago, they say, by Frenchmen is taken;

Minorca's besieg'd--and as for Gibraltar,

By Jove, if it's taken I'll take to the halter.

It makes me so wroth, I could scold like Xantippe

When I think of our losses along Mississippi--

And see in the Indies that horrible Hyder,

His conquests extending still wider and wider.

'Twixt Washington, Hyder, Don Galvez, De Grasse,

By my soul we are brought to a very fine pass--

When we've reason to hope new battles are won,

A packet arrives--and an army's undone!--

In the midst of this scene of dismay and distress,

What is best to be done, is not easy to guess,

For things may go wrong though we plan them aright,

And blows they must look for, whose trade is to fight.

In regard to the rebels, it is my decree

That dependent on Britain they ever shall be;

Or I've captains and hosts that will fly at my nod

And slaughter them all--by the blessing of God.

But if they succeed, as they're likely to do,

Our neighbours must part with their colonies too:

Let them laugh and be merry, and make us their jest,

When La Plata revolts, we shall laugh with the rest--

'Tis true that the journey to castle St. Juan

Was a project that brought the projectors to ruin;

But still, my dear lords, I would have you reflect,

Who nothing do venture can nothing expect.

If the Commons agree to afford me new treasures,

My sentence once more is for vigorous measures:

Accustom'd so long to head winds and bad weather,

Let us conquer or go to the devil together.

[128] In the _Freeman's Journal_ of February 2, 1782, is given his

Majesty's speech of November 27, 1781, in full, followed by the speech

he should have given. The first tidings of the surrender of Cornwallis

reached England November 25. The king's speech to Parliament was

confused and aimless.

[129] Alluding to the last campaign of the war, which culminated in the

surrender of Cornwallis.

[130] "Commodore George Johnstone, commanding the British East India

fleet, was attacked by the French fleet under M. de Suffrein at St.

Jago, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, in 1781. Johnstone's flag-ship

was the Rodney, 50."--_Duyckinck._

RIVINGTON'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT[131]

[A True Copy from the Records][132]

Since life is uncertain, and no one can say,

How soon we may go, or how long we shall stay,

Methinks he is wisest who soonest prepares,

And settles in season his worldly affairs:

Some folks are so weak they can scarce avoid crying,

And think when they're making their wills they are dying;

'Tis surely a serious employment--but still,

Who e'er died the sooner for making his will?

Let others be sad when their lives they review,

But I know whom I've serv'd--and him faithfully too;

And though it may seem a fanatical story,

He often has show'd me a glimpse of his glory.

IMPRIMIS, my carcase I give and devise

To be made into cakes of a moderate size,

To nourish those tories whose spirits may droop,

And serve the king's army with Portable Soup.

Unless I mistake, in the scriptures we read

That "worms on the dead shall deliciously feed,"

The scripture stands true--and that I am firm in,

For what are our tories and soldiers but vermin?--

This soup of soups can't be call'd that of beef,

And this may to some be a matter of grief:

But I'm certain the Bull would occasion a laugh,

That beef Portable Soup should be made of a Calf.

To the king, my dear master, I give a full sett

(In volumes bound up) of the Royal Gazette,

In which he will find the vast record contain'd

Of provinces conquer'd and victories gain'd.

As to Arnold the traitor and Satan his brother,

I beg they will also accept of another;

And this shall be bound in Morocco red leather,

Provided they'll read it like brothers together.

But if Arnold should die, 'tis another affair,

Then Satan surviving shall be the sole heir;

He often has told me he thought it quite clever,

So to him and his heirs I bequeath it forever.

I know there are some (that would fain be thought wise)

Who say my Gazette is the record of lies;

In answer to this, I shall only reply--

All the choice that I had was to starve or to lie.

My fiddles, my flutes, French horns and guittars[A]

I leave to our heroes now weary of wars--

To the wars of the stage they more boldly advance,

The captains shall play and the soldiers shall dance.[B]

[A] The articles of bequest in this poem were incessantly

advertised in the Royal Gazette, and puffed off with a

dexterity peculiar to the editor of that paper.--_Freneau's

note in ed. of 1809._

[B] It became fashionable at this period with the British

officers to assume the business of the Drama, to the no

small mortification of those who had been holding them

up as the undoubted conquerors of North America.--_Ib._

To Sir Henry Clinton, his use and behoof,

I leave my French brandy of very high proof;

It will give him fresh spirits for battle and slaughter

And make him feel bolder by land and by water:

Yet I caution the knight, for fear he do wrong,

'Tis _avant la viande et apres le poisson_[C]

It will strengthen his stomach, prevent it from turning,

And digest the affront of his effigy burning.

[C] Before flesh and after fish.--_See the Royal Gazette.--Ib._

To Baron Knyphausen,[133] his heirs and assigns,

I bequeath my old hock, and my Burgundy wines,

To a true Hessian drunkard no liquors are sweeter,

And I know the old man is no foe to the creature.

To a general, my namesake,[D] I give and dispose

Of a purse full of clipp'd, light, sweated half joes;

I hereby desire him to take back his trash,

And return me my Hannay's infallible Wash.[E]

[D] General James Robertson.--_Ib._

[E] Used in the venereal disease.--_Ib._

My chessmen and tables, and other such chattels

I give to Cornwallis renowned in battles:

By moving of these (not tracing the map)

He'll explain to the king how he got in the trap.

To good David Mathews[135] (among other slops)

I give my whole cargo of Maredant's drops,

If they cannot do all, they may cure him in part,

And scatter the poison that cankers his heart:

Provided, however, and nevertheless,

That what other estate I enjoy and possess

At the time of my death (if it be not then sold)

Shall remain to the Tories to have and to hold.

As I thus have bequeath'd them both carcase and fleece,

The least they can do is to wait my decease;

But to give them what substance I have, ere I die,

And be eat up with vermin, while living--not I--

In Witness whereof (though no ailment I feel)

Hereunto I set both my hand and my seal;

(As the law says) in presence of witnesses twain,

'Squire _John Coghill Knap_,[F] and brother _Hugh Gaine_.

[F] A Notary Public in New-York.--_Freneau's note._ "'Knapp,'

says Dawson, in a note to _New York City During the

Revolution_, was 'a notorious pettifogger, a convict who

had fled from England for his own benefit.'"--_Duyckinck._

JAMES RIVINGTON, (_L.S._)

NEW-YORK, _Feb. 20, 1782_.

[131] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, February 27, 1782. One week

earlier it was advertised for sale as a broadside. I have followed the

1786 version.

James Rivington, an Englishman, was a bookseller and printer in New York

from 1761 until the close of the Revolution. In 1773 he published the

first number of _The New York Gazetteer, or the Connecticut, New Jersey,

Hudson's River and Quebec Weekly Advertiser_. At the opening of the war

he became a violent British partisan. His office was destroyed by the

Whigs in 1775. Two years later he established _Rivington's New York

Loyal Gazette_, which became the official British newspaper in America.

On December 13 of the same year, he changed the name to the _Royal

Gazette_. In the last years of the Revolution, when British success

seemed more and more uncertain, Rivington began to lean toward the Whig

side, but he was never trusted by the patriots, and he passed his last

years in loneliness and poverty.

[132] Omitted in later editions.

[133] Baron Wilhelm von Knyphausen, in command of the Hessian troops.

[134] "Tremendous."--_Ed. 1809._

[135] David Mathews, Mayor of New York during the British occupancy.

LINES

Occasioned by Mr. Rivington's new Titular Types to his _Royal

Gazette_, of February 27, 1782[136]

Well--now (said the devil) it looks something better!

Your title is struck on a charming new Letter:

Last night in the dark, as I gave it a squint,

I saw my dear partner had taken the hint.

I ever surmised (though 'twas doubted by some)

That the old types were shadows of substance to come:

But if the new Letter is pregnant with charms,

It grieves me to think of those cursed King's Arms!

The _Dieu et mon droit_ (his God and his right)

Is so dim, that I hardly know what is meant by't;

The paws of the Lion can scarcely be seen,

And the Unicorn's guts are most shamefully lean!

The Crown is so worn of your master the Despot,

That I hardly know whether 'tis a crown or a pisspot:

When I rub up my day-lights, and look very sharp

I just can distinguish the Irishman's Harp:

Another device appears rather silly,

Alas! it is only the shade of the Lilly!

For the honour of George, and the fame of our nation,

Pray give his escutcheons a rectification--

Or I know what I know, (and I'm a queer shaver)

Of Him and his Arms I'll be the In-grave-r.

[136] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, March 13, 1782.

LINES

On Mr. Rivington's new engraved King's Arms to his

_Royal Gazette_[137]

From the regions of night, with his head in a sack,

Ascended a person accoutred in black,

And upward directing his circular eye whites;

(Like the Jure-divino political Levites)

And leaning his elbow on Rivington's shelf,

While the printer was busy, thus mus'd with himself:

"My mandates are fully complied with at last,

"New arms are engrav'd, and new letters are cast:

"I therefore determine and freely accord,

"This servant of mine shall receive his reward."

Then turning about, to the printer he said,

"Who late was my servant shall now be my Aid;

"Since under my banners so bravely you fight,

"Kneel down!--for your merits I dubb you a knight,

"From a passive subaltern I bid you to rise

"The Inventor as well as the Printer of lies."

[137] _Freeman's Journal_, March 27, 1782. The _Gazette_, among the

Whigs at least, was the synonym for falsity and unfairness. It was

generally alluded to as the _Lying Gazette_.

A PROPHECY[138]

Written 1782

When a certain great king, whose initial is G,

Shall force stamps upon paper, and folks to drink tea;

When these folks burn his tea, and stampt paper, like stubble,

You may guess that this king is then coming to trouble.

But when a petition he treads under his feet,

And sends over the ocean an army and fleet;

When that army, half-starved, and frantic with rage,

Shall be coop'd up with a leader whose name rhymes to cage,

When that leader goes home, dejected and sad,

You may then be assur'd the king's prospects are bad:

But when B and C with their armies are taken,

This king will do well if he saves his own bacon.

In the year seventeen hundred and eighty and two,

A stroke he shall get that will make him look blue;

In the years eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five,

You hardly shall know that the king is alive;[139]

In the year eighty-six[140] the affair will be over,

And he shall eat turnips that grow in Hanover.

The face of the lion then shall become pale,

He shall yield fifteen teeth, and be sheer'd of his tail.

O king, my dear king, you shall be very sore,

The Stars and the Lilly shall run you on shore,

And your lion shall growl, but never bite more.

[138] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, March 27, 1782, with the

following introduction:

"Mr. Printer: The people of England at this time seem persuaded or

rather deluded into the opinion that the American revolt will be quashed

in the year 1786, and under that idea it is likely will prosecute the

war with vigour for some time to come. This infatuation chiefly owes its

birth to a prophecy of one John Cosins, who lived in the reign of the

Second Charles, importing that a certain transatlantic insurrection, and

the Kirk of Scotland, will both fall to the ground in the year above

mentioned. Cosins's predictions are as follows, taken from the _Royal

Gazette_ of the 18th ult.:

'When a branch of the thistle gets over the Atlantic,

And in a new world the root shall be planted,

And when it doth arrive at a degree of perfection

It surely will breed a great insurrection.

In the year seventy and four the root will be polished,

And in eighty and six it will be quite abolished.

The lily and the thistle in that year will unite,

But the lion and the dun cow will put them to flight.

The eagle will eagerly join in the fray,

But luna will clip both their wings in a day.

O thistle, O thistle, thy wounds will be sore.

Kirk and kirk government will be no more,

And you'll be abridg'd of all civil power.'

To show that America has not been wholly destitute of oracular sages in

past times, I send you the following choice words or prophetical hints

of an illiterate fisherman, who died about thirty years ago at his

habitation, a few miles above the mouth of the Susquehanna. I discovered

the paper containing them by mere accident in tumbling over the leaves

of an old book at an inn near that place. If you think the lines worth

inserting in your paper, they are at your service."

Reprinted without change in the edition of 1786, the text of which I

have followed above. In later editions the prophecy was changed somewhat

to conform to historical facts.

[139] In the later editions these two lines are made to read:

"And soon, very soon, shall the season arrive

When _Nebuchadnezzar_ to pasture shall drive."

[140] "In the year eighty-three."--_Ed. 1795._

THE ARGONAUT

OR, LOST ADVENTURER[141]

True to his trade--the slave of fortune still--

In a sweet isle, where never winter reigns,

I found him at the foot of a tall hill,

Mending old sails, and chewing sugar canes:

Pale ivy round him grew, and mingled vines,

Plaintains, bananas ripe, and yellow pines.

And flowering night-shade, with its dismal green,

Ash-coloured iris, painted by the sun,

And fair-haired hyacinth was near him seen,

And China pinks by marygolds o'er-run:--

"But what (said he) have men that sail the seas,

"Ah, what have they to do with things like these!

"I did not wish to leave those shades, not I,

"Where Amoranda turns her spinning-wheel;

"Charmed with the shallow stream, that murmured by,

"I felt as blest as any swain could feel,

"Who, seeking nothing that the world admires,

"On one poor valley fixed his whole desires.

"With masts so trim, and sails as white as snow,

"The painted barque deceived me from the land,

"Pleased, on her sea-beat decks I wished to go,

"Mingling my labours with her hardy band;

"To reef the sail, to guide the foaming prow

"As far as winds can waft, or oceans flow.

"To combat with the waves who first essayed,

"Had these gay groves his lightsome heart beguiled,

"His heart, attracted by the charming shade,

"Had changed the deep sea for the woody wild;

"And slighted all the gain that Neptune yields

"For Damon's cottage, or Palemon's fields.

"His barque, the bearer of a feeble crew,

"How could he trust when none had been to prove her;

"Courage might sink when lands and shores withdrew,

"And feeble hearts a thousand deaths discover:

"But Fortitude, tho' woes and death await,

"Still views bright skies, and leaves the dark to fate.

"From monkey climes where limes and lemons grow,

"And the sweet orange swells her fruit so fair,

"To wintry worlds, with heavy heart, I go

"To face the cold glance of the northern bear,

"Where lonely waves, far distant from the sun,

"And gulphs, of mighty strength, their circuits run.

"But how disheartening is the wanderer's fate!

"When conquered by the loud tempestuous main,

"On him, no mourners in procession wait,

"Nor do the sisters of the harp complain.--

"On coral beds and deluged sands they sleep,

"Who sink in storms, and mingle with the deep.

"'Tis folly all--and who can truly tell

"What storms disturb the bosom of that main,

"What ravenous fish in those dark climates dwell

"That feast on men--then stay, my gentle swain!

"Bred in yon' happy shades, be happy there,

"And let these quiet groves claim all your care."

So spoke poor Ralph, and with a smooth sea gale

Fled from the magic of the enchanting shore,

But whether winds or waters did prevail,

I saw the black ship ne'er returning more,

Though long I walked the margin of the main,

And long have looked--and still must look in vain!

[141] From the edition of 1809. In 1788 this was entitled "The Lost

Sailor;" in 1795, "Argonauta."

THE POLITICAL BALANCE[142]

Or, The Fates of Britain and America Compared

A Tale

_Deciding Fates, in Homer's stile, we shew,

And bring contending gods once more to view._

As Jove the Olympian (who both I and you know,

Was brother to Neptune, and husband to Juno)

Was lately reviewing his papers of state,

He happened to light on the records of Fate:

In Alphabet order this volume was written--

So he opened at B, for the article Britain--

She struggles so well, said the god, I will see

What the sisters in Pluto's dominions decree.

And first, on the top of a column he read

"Of a king with a mighty soft place in his head,

"Who should join in his temper the ass and the mule,

"The third of his name, and by far the worst fool:

"His reign shall be famous for multiplication,

"The sire and the king of a whelp generation:

"But such is the will and the purpose of fate,

"For each child he begets he shall forfeit a State:

"In the course of events, he shall find to his cost

"That he cannot regain what he foolishly lost;

"Of the nations around he shall be the derision,

"And know by experience the rule of Division."

So Jupiter read--a god of first rank--

And still had read on--but he came to a blank:

For the Fates had neglected the rest to reveal--

They either forgot it, or chose to conceal:

When a leaf is torn out, or a blot on a page

That pleases our fancy, we fly in a rage--

So, curious to know what the Fates would say next,

No wonder if Jove, disappointed, was vext.

But still as true genius not frequently fails,

He glanced at the Virgin, and thought of the Scales;

And said, "To determine the will of the Fates,

"One scale shall weigh Britain, the other the States."

Then turning to Vulcan, his maker of thunder,

Said he, "My dear Vulcan, I pray you look yonder,

"Those creatures are tearing each other to pieces,

"And, instead of abating, the carnage increases.

"Now, as you are a blacksmith, and lusty stout ham-eater,

"You must make me a globe of a shorter diameter;

"The world in abridgment, and just as it stands

"With all its proportions of waters and lands;

"But its various divisions must so be designed,

"That I can unhinge it whene'er I've a mind--

"How else should I know what the portions will weigh,

"Or which of the combatants carry the day?"

Old Vulcan complied, (we've no reason to doubt it)

So he put on his apron and strait went about it--

Made center, and circles as round as a pancake,

And here the Pacific, and there the Atlantic.

An axis he hammered, whose ends were the poles,

(On which the whole body perpetually rolls)

A brazen meridian he added to these,

Where four times repeated were[143] ninety degrees.

I am sure you had laughed to have seen his droll attitude,

When he bent round the surface the circles of latitude,

The zones and the tropics, meridians, equator,

And other fine things that are drawn on salt water.

Away to the southward (instructed by Pallas)

He placed in the ocean the Terra Australis,

New Holland, New Guinea, and so of the rest--

America lay by herself in the west:

From the regions where winter eternally reigns,

To the climes of Peru he extended her plains;

Dark groves, and the zones did her bosom adorn,

And the Crosiers,[A] new burnished, he hung at Cape Horn.

[A] Stars, in the form of a cross, which mark the South Pole in

Southern latitudes.--_Freneau's note._

The weight of two oceans she bore on her sides,

With all their convulsions of tempests and tides;

Vast lakes on her surface did fearfully roll,

And the ice from her rivers surrounded the pole.

Then Europe and Asia he northward extended,

Where under the Arctic with Zembla they ended;

(The length of these regions he took with his garters,

Including Siberia, the land of the Tartars.)

In the African clime (where the cocoa-nut tree grows)

He laid down the desarts, and even the negroes,

The shores by the waves of four oceans embraced,

And elephants strolling about in the waste.

In forming East India, he had a wide scope,

Beginning his work at the cape of Good Hope;

Then eastward of that he continued his plan,

'Till he came to the empire and isles of Japan.

Adjacent to Europe he struck up an island,

(One part of it low, but the other was high land)

With many a comical creature upon it,

And one wore a hat, and another a bonnet.

Like emmits or ants in a fine summer's day,

They ever were marching in battle array,

Or skipping about on the face of the brine,

Like witches in egg-shells (their ships of the line).

These poor little creatures were all in a flame,

To the lands of America urging their claim,

Still biting, or stinging, or spreading their sails;

(For Vulcan had formed them with stings in their tails).

So poor and so lean, you might count all their ribs,[B]

Yet were so enraptured with crackers and squibs,

That Vulcan with laughter almost split asunder,

"Because they imagined their crackers were thunder."

[B] Their national debt being now above _l._ 200,000,000

sterling.--_Freneau's note._

Due westward from these, with a channel between,

A servant to slaves, Hibernia was seen,

Once crowded with monarchs, and high in renown,

But all she retained was the Harp and the Crown!

Insulted forever by nobles and priests,[144]

And managed by bullies, and governed by beasts,

She looked!--to describe her I hardly know how--

Such an image of death in the scowl on her brow.

For scaffolds and halters were full in her view,

And the fiends of perdition their cutlasses drew:

And axes and gibbets around her were placed,

And the demons of murder her honours defaced.

With the blood of the worthy her mantle was stained,

And hardly a trace of her beauty remained.

Her genius, a female, reclined in the shade,

And, sick of oppression,[145] so mournfully played,

That Jove was uneasy to hear her complain,

And ordered his blacksmith to loosen her chain:

Then tipt her a wink, saying, "Now is your time,

"(To rebel is the sin, to revolt is no crime)

"When your fetters are off, if you dare not be free

"Be a slave and be damned,[146] but complain not to me."

But finding her timid, he cried in a rage--

"Though the doors are flung open, she stays in the cage!

"Subservient to Britain then let her remain,

"And her freedom shall be, but the choice[147] of her chain,"

At length, to discourage all stupid pretensions,

Jove looked at the globe, and approved its dimensions,

And cried in a transport--"Why what have we here!

"Friend Vulcan, it is a most beautiful sphere!

"Now while I am busy in taking apart

"This globe that is formed with such exquisite art,

"Go, Hermes, to Libra, (you're one of her gallants)

"And ask, in my name, for the loan of her balance."

Away posted Hermes, as swift as the gales,

And as swiftly returned with the ponderous scales,

And hung them aloft to a beam in the air,

So equally poised, they had turned with a hair.

Now Jove to Columbia his shoulders applied,

But aiming to lift her, his strength she defied--

Then, turning about to their godships, he says--

"A body so vast is not easy to raise;

"But if you assist me, I still have a notion

"Our forces, united, can put her in motion,

"And swing her aloft, (though alone I might fail)

"And place her, in spite of her bulk, in our scale;

"If six years together the Congress have strove,

"And more than divided the empire with Jove;

"With a Jove like myself, who am nine times as great,

"You can join, like their soldiers, to heave up this weight."

So to it they went, with handspikes and levers,

And upward she sprung, with her mountains and rivers!

Rocks, cities, and islands, deep waters and shallows,

Ships, armies, and forests, high heads and fine fellows:

"Stick to it!" cries Jove, "now heave one and all!

"At least we are lifting 'one-eighth of the ball!'

"If backward she tumbles--then trouble begins,

"And then have a care, my dear boys, of your shins!"

When gods are determined what project can fail?

So they gave a hard shove, and she mounted the scale;

Suspended aloft, Jove viewed her with awe--

And the gods,[C] for their pay, had a hearty--huzza!

[C] American soldiers.--_Freneau's note._

But Neptune bawled out--"Why Jove you're a noddy,

"Is Britain sufficient to poise that vast body?

"'Tis nonsense such castles to build in the air--

"As well might an oyster with Britain compare."

"Away to your waters, you blustering bully,"

Said Jove, "or I'll make you repent of your folly,

"Is Jupiter, Sir, to be tutored by you?--

"Get out of my sight, for I know what to do!"

Then searching about with his fingers for Britain,

Thought he, "this same island I cannot well hit on;

"The devil take him who first called her the Great:

"If she was--she is vastly diminished of late!"

Like a man that is searching his thigh for a flea.

He peeped and he fumbled, but nothing could see;

At last he exclaimed--"I am surely upon it--

"I think I have hold of a Highlander's bonnet."

But finding his error, he said with a sigh,

"This bonnet is only the island of Skie!"[D]

So away to his namesake the planet he goes,

And borrowed two moons to hang on his nose.

[D] An Island on the north-west of Scotland.--_Freneau's note._

Through these, as through glasses, he saw her quite clear,

And in raptures cried out--"I have found her--she's here!

"If this be not Britain, then call me an ass--

"She looks like a gem in an ocean of glass.

"But, faith, she's so small I must mind how I shake her;

"In a box I'll inclose her, for fear I should break her:

"Though a god, I might suffer for being aggressor,

"Since scorpions, and vipers, and hornets possess her;

"The white cliffs of Albion I think I descry--

"And the hills of Plinlimmon appear rather nigh--

"But, Vulcan, inform me what creatures are these,

"That smell so of onions, and garlick, and cheese?"

Old Vulcan replied--"Odds splutter a nails!

"Why, these are the Welch, and the country is Wales!

"When Taffy is vext, no devil is ruder--

"Take care how you trouble the offspring of Tudor!

"On the crags of the mountains _hur_ living _hur_ seeks,

"_Hur_ country is planted with garlick and leeks;

"So great is _hur_ choler, beware how you teaze _hur_,

"For these are the Britons--unconquered by Caesar."[148]

"But now, my dear Juno, pray give me my mittens,

"(These insects I am going to handle are Britons)

"I'll draw up their isle with a finger and thumb,

"As the doctor extracts an old tooth from the gum."

Then he raised her aloft--but to shorten our tale,

She looked like a clod in the opposite scale--

Britannia so small, and Columbia so large--

A ship of first rate, and a ferryman's barge!

Cried Pallas to Vulcan, "Why, Jove's in a dream--

"Observe how he watches the turn of the beam!

"Was ever a mountain outweighed by a grain?

"Or what is a drop when compared to the main?"

But Momus alledged--"In my humble opinion,

"You should add to Great-Britain her foreign dominion,

"When this is appended, perhaps she will rise,

"And equal her rival in weight and in size."

"Alas! (said the monarch), your project is vain,

"But little is left of her foreign domain;

"And, scattered about in the liquid expanse,

"That little is left to the mercy of France;

"However, we'll lift them, and give her fair play"--

And soon in the scale with their mistress they lay;

But the gods were confounded and struck with surprise,

And Vulcan could hardly believe his own eyes!

For (such was the purpose and guidance of fate)

Her foreign dominions diminished her weight--

By which it appeared, to Britain's disaster,

Her foreign possessions were changing their master.

Then, as he replaced them, said Jove with a smile--

"Columbia shall never be ruled by an isle--

"But vapours and darkness around her may rise,

"And tempests conceal her awhile from our eyes;

"So locusts in Egypt their squadrons display,

"And rising, disfigure the face of the day;

"So the moon, at her full, has a frequent eclipse,

"And the sun in the ocean diurnally dips.

"Then cease your endeavours, ye vermin of Britain--

(And here, in derision, their island he spit on)

"'Tis madness to seek what you never can find,

"Or to think of uniting what nature disjoined;

"But still you may flutter awhile with your wings,

"And spit out your venom and brandish your stings:

"Your hearts are as black, and as bitter as gall,

"A curse to mankind--and a blot on the Ball."[E]

[E] It is hoped that such a sentiment may not be deemed wholly

illiberal--Every candid person will certainly _draw a line

between a brave and magnanimous people, and a most vicious

and vitiating government_. Perhaps the following extract

from a pamphlet lately published in London and republished

at Baltimore (June, 1809) by Mr. _Bernard Dornin_, will

place the preceding sentiment in a fair point of view:

"A better spirit than exists in the English people, never

existed in any people in the world; it has been misdirected,

and squandered upon party purposes in the most degrading and

scandalous manner; they have been led to believe that they

were benefiting the commerce of England by destroying the

commerce of America, that they were defending their

sovereign by perpetuating the bigoted oppression of their

fellow subjects; their rulers and their guides have told

them that they would equal the vigour of France by equalling

her atrocity, and they have gone on, wasting that opulence,

patience and courage, which if husbanded by prudent, and

moderate counsels, might have proved the salvation of

mankind. The same policy of turning the good qualities of

Englishmen to their own destruction, which made Mr. Pitt

omnipotent, continues his power to those who resemble him

only in his vices; advantage is taken of the loyalty of

Englishmen, to make them meanly submissive; their piety is

turned into persecution; their courage into useless and

obstinate contention; they are plundered because they are

ready to pay, and soothed into assinine stupidity because

they are full of virtuous patience. If England must perish

at last, so let it be: that event is in the hands of God; we

must dry up our tears, and submit. But that England should

perish swindling and stealing; that it should perish waging

war against lazar-houses and hospitals; that it should

perish persecuting with monastic bigotry; that it should

calmly give itself up to be ruined by the flashy arrogance

of one man, and the narrow fanaticism of another: these

events are within the power of human beings, but I did not

think that the magnanimity of Englishmen would ever stoop to

such degradations."--_Freneau's note._

[142] This poem appeared in the April 3, 1782, issue of the _Freeman's

Journal_, filling the entire first page of the paper. I have followed

the text of the 1809 edition.

[143] "On which were engraven twice."--_Ed. 1786._

[144] This and the nine following lines were written for the edition of

1809.

[145] "Merely for music."--_Ed. 1786._

[146] "If you will,"--_Ib._

[147] "Length."--_Ed. 1786._

[148] In the 1786 edition there was inserted at this point the following

stanza omitted in the later versions:

"Jove peep'd thro' his moons, and examin'd their features,

And said, 'By my truth, they are wonderful creatures,

'The beards are so long that encircle their throats,

'That (unless they are Welchmen) I swear they are _goats_.'"

DIALOGUE AT HYDE-PARK CORNER[149]

(London)

_Burgoyne_

Let those who will, be proud and sneer

And call you an unwelcome peer,

But I am glad to see you here:

The prince that fills the British throne,

Unless successful, honours none;

Poor Jack Burgoyne!--you're not alone.

_Cornwallis_

Thy ships, De Grasse, have caused my grief--

To rebel shores and their relief

There never came a luckier chief:

In fame's black page it shall be read,

By Gallic arms my soldiers bled--

The rebels thine in triumph led.

_Burgoyne_

Our fortunes different forms assume,

I called and called for elbow-room,[150]

Till Gates discharged me to my doom;[151]

But you, that conquered far and wide,

In little York thought fit to hide,

The subject ocean at your side.

_Cornwallis_

And yet no force had gained that post--

Not Washington, his country's boast,

Nor Rochambeau, with all his host,

Nor all the Gallic fleet's parade--

Had Clinton hurried to my aid,

And Sammy Graves been not afraid.

_Burgoyne_

For head knocked off, or broken bones,

Or mangled corpse, no price atones;

Nor all that prattling rumour says,

Nor all the piles that art can raise,

The poet's or the parson's praise.

_Cornwallis_

Though I am brave, as well as you,

Yet still I think your notion true;

Dear brother Jack, our toils are o'er--

With foreign conquests plagued no more,

We'll stay and guard our native shore.

[149] Text from the edition of 1809. The poem first appeared in the

_Freeman's Journal_, April 24, 1782.

[150] See Vol. I, page 166, note.

[151]

"Had I been blest with _elbow-room_,

I might have found a different doom."--_Ed. 1786._

ON THE LATE ROYAL SLOOP OF WAR GENERAL MONK[152]

(Formerly the Washington)

Mounting Six Quarter Deck Wooden Guns

When the _Washington_ ship by the English was beat,

They sent her to England to shew their great feat,

And Sandwich straitway, as a proof of his spunk,

Dashed out her old name, and called her the _Monk_.

"This _Monk_ hated Rebels (said Sandy)--'od rot 'em--

"So heave her down quickly, and copper her bottom;

"With the sloops of our navy we'll have her enrolled,

"And manned with picked sailors to make her feel bold;

"To shew that our king is both valiant and good,

"Some guns shall be iron, and others be wood,

"And, in truth, (though I wish not the secret to spread)

"All her guns should be wooden--to suit with his head."

[152] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_, April 24, 1782. On

April 10, the Journal contained the following account of the battle:

"Yesterday the _Hyder Ally_, a vessel fitted out for the protection of

this river and its trade, returned to Chester after a severe conflict

with a vessel of superior force, which with great gallantry and good

conduct on the part of Capt. Barney and his crew, has been captured and

brought into port. The particulars of the action, as far as we have been

able to collect them, are that a fleet of merchantmen, having proceeded

down the bay, were met by an enemy's frigate of forty guns, with the

_General Monk_, Sloop of War, and _Fair American_, privateer; the

_General Monk_ having eighteen nine pounders and one hundred and fifty

men. The fleet endeavored to return, but were pursued by the frigate,

sloop, and privateer. The _Fair American_ being engaged with one of the

fleet, and the frigate being at a considerable distance, gave the _Hyder

Ally_ an opportunity to attack the _General Monk_ singly, which Capt.

Barney embraced, and after a very close and brave attack of about thirty

minutes, the _General Monk_ surrendered to her inferior adversary. The

_General Monk_ had fifty-three men killed and wounded, among whom are

most of the officers; on board the _Hyder Ally_ there were fifteen

killed and wounded. A brig, one of the fleet, was taken, and the

_General Greene_ left engaged with the _Fair American_. The conduct of

Capt. Barney has given the greatest satisfaction and shows him truly

worthy of the trust committed to him."

TRUTH ANTICIPATED[153][A]

A Rivingtonian Dialogue

[A] "Occasioned by the naval victory gained by Admiral Rodney

and Capt. Cornwallis, of the British fleet in the West

Indies, over the squadron of Count De Grasse."--_Freneau's

note to 1809 edition._

What brilliant events have of late come to pass,

No less than the capture of Monsieur de Grasse!

His majesty's printer has told it for true,

As we had it from him, so we give it to you.

Many folks of discernment the story believed,

And the devil himself it at first had deceived,

Had it not been that Satan imported the stuff,

And signed it George Rodney, by way of high proof.[154]

Said Satan to Jemmy, "Let's give them the whappers--

"Some news I have got that will bring in the coppers,

"And truth it shall be, though I pass it for lies,

"And making a page of your newspaper size.

"A wide field is open to favour my plan,

"And the rebels may prove that I lie--if they can;

"Since they jested and laughed at our lying before,

"Let it pass for a lie, to torment them the more.

"My wings are yet wet with the West-India dew,

"And Rodney I left, to come hither to you,

"I left him bedeviled with brimstone and smoke,

"The French in distress, and their armament broke.

"For news so delightful, with heart and with voice

"The Tories of every degree may rejoice;

"With charcoal and sulphur shall utter their joy

"'Till they all get as black as they paint the old Boy."

Thus, pleased with the motion, each cutting a caper,

Down they sat at the table, with pen, ink, and paper;

In less than five minutes the matter was stated,

And Jemmy turned scribe, while Satan dictated.

"Begin (said the devil) in the form of a Letter,

"(If you call it true copy, 'tis so much the better)

"Make Rodney assert he met the French fleet,

"Engaged it, and gave 'em a total defeat.

"But the better to vamp up a show of reality,

"The tale must be told with circumstantiality,

"What vessels were conquered by Britain's bold sons,

"Their quotas of men, and their number of guns.

"There's the _Villa de Paris_--one hundred and ten--

"Write down that George Rodney has killed half her men--

"That her hull and her rigging are shattered and shaken,

"Her flag humbled down, and her admiral taken.

"_Le Cesar_, 'tis true, is a seventy-four,

"But the _Villa de Paris_ was thirty-six more;

"With a grey goose's quill if that ship we did seize on,

"_Le Cesar_ must fall, or I'll know what's the reason.

"The next that I fix on to take is the _Hector_,

"(Her name may be Trojan, but shall not protect her)

"Don't faulter, dear comrade, and look like a goose,

"If we've taken these three, we can take _Glorieuse_.

"The last mentioned ship runs their loss up to four,

"_Le Diadem_ sunk, shall make it one more;

"And now, for the sake of round numbers, dear cousin,

"Write _Ardent_, and then we have just half-a-dozen!"

Jemmy smiled at the notion, and whispered "O fy!

"Indeed 'tis a shame to persuade one to lie"--

But Satan replied--"Consider, my son,

"I am a prince of the winds, and have seen what is done:

"With a conquest like this, how bright we shall shine!

"That Rodney has taken six ships of the line,

"Will be in your paper a brilliant affair;

"How the Tories will laugh, and the rebels will swear.

"But farther, dear Jemmy, make Rodney to say,

"If the sun two hours longer had held out the day,

"The rest were so beaten, so baisted, so tore,

"He had taken them all, and he knew not but more."

So the partners broke up, as good friends as they met,

And soon it was all in the _Royal Gazette_;

The Tories rejoiced at the very good news,

And said, There's no fear we shall die in our shoes.

Now let us give credit to Jemmy, forsooth,

Since once in a way he has hit on the truth:

If again he returns to his practice of lies,

He hardly reflects where he'll go when he dies.

But still, when he dies, let it never be said

That he rests in his grave with no verse at his head;

But furnish, ye poets, some short epitaph,

And something like this, that readers may laugh:

Here _lies_ a King's Printer, we needn't say who:

There is reason to think that he tells what is true:

But if he _lies_ here, 'tis not over-strange,

His present position is but a small change,

So, reader, pass on--'tis a folly to sigh,

For all his life long he did little but _lie_.

[153] The first trace that I can find of this poem is in the 1786

edition, where it is signed, "Written _April, 1782_."

On June 5, 1782, Freneau printed the following in the Journal:

"Formidable, between Guadaloupe and Monpenat,

April 14, 1782.

"Sir: I am this moment favoured with your excellency's letter, and have

the happiness to acquaint you that after having had a partial engagement

with the enemy on the 9th, wherein 16 of my rear were prevented by calms

from joining in the action, on the 12th I had the good fortune to bring

them to a general action, which lasted from seven o'clock in the morning

until half-past six in the afternoon, without a moment's intermission.

Count de Grasse, with the _Ville de Paris_ and four other ships of the

line and one sunk, graced the victory. The remainder of their fleet was

so miserably shattered and their loss of men so very great from their

having their whole army consisting of 5,500 men on board the ships of

war, that I am convinced it will be almost impossible to put them in a

condition for service for some considerable time.

I am hastening with my whole fleet, etc.

G. B. RODNEY."

Freneau's early doubts as to this victory, which was loudly proclaimed

in the _Royal Gazette_, is evidenced not only by the poem, but by the

following comment on Rodney's letter:

"The unskilful forger of Sir George Rodney's letter, which is pretended

to have been wafted from Jamaica to Savannah and thence to Charleston,

exhibits Sir George not as a British admiral, but as a saucy upstart....

To comment on this absurd forgery would be nugatory."

[154] "For that was enough."--_Ed. 1786._

BARNEY'S INVITATION[155]

Come all ye lads who know no fear,

To wealth and honor with me steer

In the _Hyder Ali_ privateer,

Commanded by brave Barney.

She's new and true, and tight and sound,

Well rigged aloft, and all well found--

Come away and be with laurel crowned,

Away--and leave your lasses.

Accept our terms without delay,

And make your fortunes while you may,

Such offers are not every day

In the power of the jolly sailor.

Success and fame attend the brave,

But death the coward and the slave,

Who fears to plow the Atlantic wave,

To seek the bold invaders.

Come, then, and take a cruising bout,

Our ship sails well, there is no doubt,

She has been tried both in and out,

And answers expectation.

Let no proud foes whom Europe bore,

Distress our trade, insult our shore--

Teach them to know their reign is o'er,

Bold Philadelphia sailors!

We'll teach them how to sail so near,

Or to venture on the Delaware,

When we in warlike trim appear

And cruise without Henlopen.

Who cannot wounds and battle dare

Shall never clasp the blooming fair;

The brave alone their charms should share,

The brave are their protectors.

With hand and heart united all,

Prepared to conquer or to fall,

Attend, my lads, to honour's call,

Embark in our _Hyder Ali_.

From an Eastern prince[156] she takes her name,

Who, smit with Freedom's sacred flame,

Usurping Britons brought to shame,

His country's wrongs avenging;

See, on her stern the waving stars--

Inured to blood, inured to wars,

Come, enter quick, my jolly tars,

To scourge these warlike Britons.

Here's grog enough--then drink a bout,

I know your hearts are firm and stout;

American blood will never give out,

And often we have proved it.

Though stormy oceans round us roll,

We'll keep a firm undaunted soul,

Befriended by the cheering bowl,

Sworn foes to melancholy:

While timorous landsmen lurk on shore,

'Tis ours to go where cannons roar--

On a coasting cruise we'll go once more,

Despisers of all danger;

And Fortune still, who crowns the brave,

Shall guard us over the gloomy wave

A fearful heart betrays a knave--

Success to the _Hyder Ali_.

[155] "A number of gentlemen having met in the evening [about April 1,

1782] at Crawford and Donaldson's insurance office in High street and,

conversing on the subject of the captures making in the bay by the

_General Monk_, just then arrived, it was resolved to raise a loan of

money by which to fit out a vessel which might succeed to capture her.

The money was obtained of the Bank of North America upon the

responsibility of sundry individuals; the _Hyder Ali_ was purchased of

John W. Stanley and the command given to Capt. Barney; a crew of

volunteers, chiefly from the regular service, was engaged, and a

commission of a letter of marque procured. In a week the vessel was

ready and sailed."--Watson's _Annals of Philadelphia_. The poem was

included in the editions of 1786 and 1809. Why Freneau omitted this

spirited lyric and also 'Barney's Victory over the _Monk_' from his

edition of 1795 has never been explained.

[156] Hyder Ali, a prince of Mysore, India, who defeated in 1767 the

British troops and forced them to sue for peace. In 1780, assisted by

the French, he invaded Carnatic, but was defeated the following year by

Sir Eyre Coote. From his hostility to the English and his alliance with

the French he was hailed with enthusiasm by the American patriots.

SONG[157]

On Captain Barney's Victory over the Ship _General Monk_

O'er the waste of waters cruising,

Long the _General Monk_ had reigned;

All subduing, all reducing,

None her lawless rage restrained:

Many a brave and hearty fellow

Yielding to this warlike foe,

When her guns began to bellow

Struck his humbled colours low.

But grown bold with long successes,

Leaving the wide watery way,

She, a stranger to distresses,

Came to cruise within Cape May:

"Now we soon (said captain Rogers)

"Shall their men of commerce meet;

"In our hold we'll have them lodgers,

"We shall capture half their fleet.

"Lo! I see their van appearing--

"Back our topsails to the mast--

"They toward us full are steering

"With a gentle western blast:

"I've a list of all their cargoes,

"All their guns, and all their men:

"I am sure these modern Argos

"Cant escape us one in ten:

"Yonder comes the _Charming Sally_

"Sailing with the _General Greene_--

"First we'll fight the _Hyder Ali_,

"Taking her is taking them:

"She intends to give us battle,

"Bearing down with all her sail--

"Now, boys, let our cannon rattle!

"To take her we cannot fail.

"Our eighteen guns, each a nine pounder,

"Soon shall terrify this foe;

"We shall maul her, we shall wound her,

"Bringing rebel colours low."--

While he thus anticipated

Conquests that he could not gain,

He in the Cape May channel waited

For the ship that caused his pain.

Captain Barney then preparing,

Thus addressed his gallant crew--

"Now, brave lads, be bold and daring,

"Let your hearts be firm and true;

"This is a proud English cruiser,

"Roving up and down the main,

"We must fight her--must reduce her,

"Though our decks be strewed with slain.

"Let who will be the survivor,

"We must conquer or must die,

"We must take her up the river,

"Whate'er comes of you or I:

"Though she shews most formidable

"With her eighteen pointed nines,

"And her quarters clad in sable,

"Let us baulk her proud designs.

"With four nine pounders, and twelve sixes

"We will face that daring band;

"Let no dangers damp your courage,

"Nothing can the brave withstand.

"Fighting for your country's honour,

"Now to gallant deeds aspire;

"Helmsman, bear us down upon her,

"Gunner, give the word to fire!"

Then yard arm and yard arm meeting,

Strait began the dismal fray,

Cannon mouths, each other greeting,

Belched their smoky flames away:

Soon the langrage, grape and chain shot,

That from Barney's cannons flew,

Swept the _Monk_, and cleared each round top,

Killed and wounded half her crew.

Captain Rogers strove to rally

But they from their quarters fled,

While the roaring _Hyder Ali_

Covered o'er his decks with dead.

When from their tops their dead men tumbled,

And the streams of blood did flow,

Then their proudest hopes were humbled

By their brave inferior foe.

All aghast, and all confounded,

They beheld their champions fall,

And their captain, sorely wounded,

Bade them quick for quarters call.

Then the _Monk's_ proud flag descended,

And her cannon ceased to roar;

By her crew no more defended,

She confessed the contest o'er.

Come, brave boys, and fill your glasses,

You have humbled one proud foe,

No brave action this surpasses,

Fame shall tell the nations so--

Thus be Britain's woes completed,

Thus abridged her cruel reign,

'Till she ever, thus defeated,

Yields the sceptre of the main.

[157] First published in the _Freeman's Journal_ May 8, 1782, with the

following introduction:

"Mr. Bailey:

"Reading Capt. Barney's late gallant exploit in your and other

newspapers, I could not restrain myself from scribbling the few

following stanzas relative to that affair and descriptive not of

what was really said or done in the most minute particulars but

of what might be supposed to have passed in similar circumstances.

Yours,

RUSTICUS.

"Dover, April 26, 1782.

"To the Tune of the Tempest or Hosier's Ghost."

The omission of this stirring lyric from the edition of 1795 I can

ascribe only to accident.

ON SIR HENRY CLINTON'S RECALL[158]

The dog that is beat has a right to complain--

Sir Harry returns a disconsolate man,

To the face of his master, the Lord's[159] oil-anointed,

To the country provided for thieves disappointed.

Our freedom, he thought, to a tyrant must fall,

He concluded the weakest must go to the wall;

The more he was flattered, the bolder he grew--

He quitted the old world to conquer the new.

But in spite of the deeds he has done in his garrison,

(And they have been curious beyond all comparison)

He now must go home, at the call of his king,

To answer the charges that Arnold may bring.

But what are the acts that this chief has atchieved?--

If good, it is hard he should now be aggrieved,

And the more, as he fought for his national glory,

Nor valued, a farthing, the right of the story.

This famous great man, and two birds[A] of his feather,

In the _Cerberus_ frigate came over together;

But of all the bold chiefs that re-measure the trip,

Not two have been known to return in one ship.[160]

The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 2 (of 3) · 第 4 / 7 章

SCENE IV.--_Another apartment in said house. Enter_ AIDE _to_ GEN.