And when a train of rolling years are pa_The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 1 (of 3)

(So sang the exil'd seer in Patmos isle,)

A new Jerusalem sent down from heav'n

Shall grace our happy earth, perhaps this land,

Whose virgin bosom shall then receive, tho' late,

Myriads of saints with their almighty king,

To live and reign on earth a thousand years

Thence call'd Millennium. Paradise anew

Shall flourish, by no second Adam lost.

No dang'rous tree or deathful fruit shall grow,

No tempting serpent to allure the soul,

From native innocence; a Canaan here

Another Canaan shall excel the old,

And from fairer Pisgah's top be seen.

No thistle here or briar or thorn shall spring,

Earth's curse before: the lion and the lamb

In mutual friendship link'd shall browse the shrub,

And tim'rous deer with rabid tygers stray

O'er mead or lofty hill or grassy plain.

Another Jordan's stream shall glide along

And Siloah's brook in circling eddies flow,

Groves shall adorn their verdant banks, on which

The happy people free from second death

Shall find secure repose; no fierce disease

No fevers, slow consumption, direful plague

Death's ancient ministers, again renew

Perpetual war with man: Fair fruits shall bloom

Fair to the eye, sweet to the taste, if such

Divine inhabitants could need the taste

Of elemental food, amid the joys,

Fit for a heav'nly nature. Music's charms

Shall swell the lofty soul and harmony

Triumphant reign; thro' ev'ry grove shall sound

The cymbal and the lyre, joys too divine

For fallen man to know. Such days the world

And such, America, thou first shall have

When ages yet to come have run their round

And future years of bliss alone remain.

ACASTO

This is thy praise. America, thy pow'r,

Thou best of climes, by science visited,

By freedom blest and richly stor'd with all

The luxuries of life. Hail, happy land,

The seat of empire, the abode of kings,

The final stage where time shall introduce

Renowned characters, and glorious works

Of high invention and of wond'rous art

Which not the ravages of time shall waste

Till he himself has run his long career;

Till all those glorious orbs of light on high,

The rolling wonders that surround the ball,

Drop from their spheres extinguish'd and consum'd;

When final ruin with her fiery car

Rides o'er creation, and all nature's works

Are lost in chaos and the womb of night.

The 1786 edition, which was evolved with such great changes from the

original version, furnished the text of the 1795 edition. There were

some twenty variations and three added lines, viz., lines 354, 427, 438.

Line 265 was changed from "Which full enjoyment only finds for fools,"

to its final form; line 352 was changed from "A thousand kingdoms

rais'd;" line 360, from "Our Alexanders, Pompeys, heroes, kings;" line

371, from "One monarchy;" and 461, from "Death's ancient." The other

changes were largely verbal, nearly all being for the better. For the

edition of 1809, Freneau used the 1795 text, with some twenty-one

variations and one added line, viz., line 67. These variations, which

nearly all concern single words, are generally not at all for the

better: for instance, "Shackle," in line 343, is changed to "people;"

"our sons," in line 365, is changed to "a race;" "were born," in 367, to

"we exist;" and "strumpets," in 409, to "vagrants." Freneau's notes in

the various editions were as follows:

62. Genesis x, 25.

100. Hor. Epod. 16.

207. 1755.

251. Hom. Odyss. B. 24.

328. Newton.

373. The Massacre at Boston. March 5th, 1770, is here more

particularly glanced at.

ON RETIREMENT[46]

(By Hezekiah Salem)

A hermit's house beside a stream,

With forests planted round,

Whatever it to you may seem

More real happiness I deem

Than if I were a monarch crown'd.

A cottage I could call my own,

Remote from domes of care;

A little garden walled with stone,

The wall with ivy overgrown,

A limpid fountain near,

Would more substantial joys afford,

More real bliss impart

Than all the wealth that misers hoard,

Than vanquish'd worlds, or worlds restored--

Mere cankers of the heart!

Vain, foolish man! how vast thy pride,

How little can your wants supply!--

'Tis surely wrong to grasp so wide--

You act as if you only had

To vanquish--not to die!

[46] The title in the edition of 1786 was "Retirement." In 1795 it was

changed to "The Wish of Diogenes."

DISCOVERY[47]

Six thousand years in these dull regions pass'd,

'Tis time, you'll say, we knew their bounds at last,

Knew to what skies our setting stars retire,

And where the wintry suns expend their fire;

What land to land protracts the varied scene,

And what extended oceans roll between;

What worlds exist beneath antarctic skies,

And from Pacific waves what verdant islands rise.

In vain did Nature shore from shore divide:

Art formed a passage and her waves defied:

When his bold plan the master pilot drew

Dissevered worlds stept forward at the view,

And lessening still the intervening space,

Disclosed new millions of the human race.

Proud even of toil, succeeding ages joined

New seas to vanquish, and new worlds to find;

Age following age still farther from the shore,

Found some new wonder that was hid before,

'Till launched at length, with avarice doubly bold,

Their hearts expanding as the world grew old,

Some to be rich, and some to be renowned,

The earth they rifled, and explored it round.

Ambitious Europe! polished in thy pride,

Thine was the art that toil to toil allied,

Thine was the gift, to trace each heavenly sphere,

And seize its beams, to serve ambition here:

Hence, fierce Pizarro stock'd a world with graves,

Hence Montezuma left a race of slaves.--

Which project suited best with heaven's decree,

To force new doctrines, or to leave them free?--

Religion only feigned to claim a share,

Their riches, not their souls, employed your care.--

Alas! how few of all that daring train

That seek new worlds embosomed in the main,

How few have sailed on virtue's nobler plan,

How few with motives worthy of a man!--

While through the deep-sea waves we saw them go

Where'er they found a man they made a foe;

Superior only by superior art,

Forgot the social virtues of the heart,

Forgetting still, where'er they madly ran,

That sacred friendship binds mankind to man,

Fond of exerting power untimely shewn,

The momentary triumph all their own!

Met on the wrecks and ravages of time,

They left no native master of his clime,

His trees, his towns, with hardened front they claimed,

Seized every region that a despot named

And forced the oath that bound him to obey

Some prince unknown, ten thousand miles away.

Slaves to their passions, man's imperious race,

Born for contention, find no resting place,

And the vain mind, bewildered and perplext,

Makes this world wretched to enjoy the next.

Tired of the scenes that Nature made their own,

They rove to conquer what remains unknown:

Avarice, undaunted, claims whate'er she sees,

Surmounts earth's circle, and foregoes all ease:

Religion, bolder, sends some sacred chief

To bend the nations to her own belief.

To their vain standard Europe's sons invite,

Who hold no other world can think aright.

Behold their varied tribes, with self applause,

First in religion, liberty, and laws,

And while they bow to cruelty and blood,

Condemn the Indian with his milder god.--

Ah, race to justice, truth, and honour blind,

Are thy convictions to convert mankind!--

Vain pride--convince them that your own are just,

Or leave them happy, as you found them first.

What charm is seen through Europe's realms of strife

That adds new blessings to the savage life?--

On them warm suns with equal splendor shine,

Their each domestic pleasure equals thine,

Their native groves as soft a bloom display,

As self-contented roll their lives away,

And the gay soul, in fancy's visions blest,

Leaves to the care of chance her heaven of rest.

What are the arts that rise on Europe's plan

But arts destructive to the bliss of man?

What are all wars, where'er the marks you trace,

But the sad records of our world's disgrace?

Reason degraded from her tottering throne,

And precepts, called divine, observed by none.

Blest in their distance from that bloody scene,

Why spread the sail to pass the gulphs between?--

If winds can waft to ocean's utmost verge,

And there new islands and new worlds emerge--

If wealth, or war, or science bid thee roam,

Ah, leave religion and thy laws at home,

Leave the free native to enjoy his store,

Nor teach destructive arts, unknown before--

Woes of their own those new found worlds invade,

There, too, fierce passions the weak soul degrade,

Invention there has winged the unerring dart,

There the swift arrow vibrates to the heart.

Revenge and death contending bosoms share,

And pining envy claims her subjects there.

Are these too few?--then see despotic power

Spends on a throne of logs her busy hour.

Hard by, and half ambitious to ascend,

Priests, interceding with the gods, attend--

Atoning victims at their shrines they lay,

Their crimson knives tremendous rites display,

Or the proud despot's gore remorseless shed.

Through life detested, or adored when dead.

Born to be wretched, search this globe around,

Dupes to a few the race of man is found!

Seek some new world in some new climate plac'd,

Some gay Ta-ia[A] on the watery waste,

Though Nature clothes in all her bright array,

Some proud tormentor steals her charms away:

Howe'er she smiles beneath those milder skies,

Though men decay the monarch never dies!

Howe'er the groves, howe'er the gardens bloom,

A monarch and a priest is still their doom!

[A] Commonly called Otaheite, an island in the Southern

Pacific Ocean, noted for the natural civilization of

its inhabitants.--_Freneau's note._

[47] The edition of 1786 has the date 1772 for this poem. Very little

change was made in the text for the later editions.

THE PICTURES OF COLUMBUS,

THE GENOESE[48]

PICTURE I.

Columbus making Maps[A]

[A] History informs us this was his original profession: and

from the disproportionate vacancy observable in the drafts

of that time between Europe and Asia to the west, it is

most probable he first took the idea of another continent,

lying in a parallel direction to, and existing between

both.--_Freneau's note._

As o'er his charts Columbus ran,

Such disproportion he survey'd,

He thought he saw in art's mean plan

Blunders that Nature never made;

The land in one poor corner placed,

And all beside, a swelling waste!--

"It can't be so," Columbus said;

"This world on paper idly drawn,[49]

"O'er one small tract so often gone

"The pencil tires; in this void space

"Allow'd to find no resting place.

"But copying Nature's bold design,

"If true to her, no fault is mine;

"Perhaps in these moist regions dwell

"Forms wrought like man, and lov'd as well.

"Yet to the west what lengthen'd seas!

"Are no gay islands found in these,

"No sylvan worlds that Nature meant

"To balance Asia's vast extent?

"As late a mimic globe I made

"(Imploring Fancy to my aid)

"O'er these wild seas a shade I threw,

"And a new world my pencil drew.

"But westward plac'd, and far away

"In the deep seas this country lay

"Beyond all climes already known,

"In Neptune's bosom plac'd alone.

"Who knows but he that hung this ball

"In the clear void, and governs all,

"On those dread scenes, remote from view,

"Has trac'd his great idea too.

"What can these idle charts avail--

"O'er real seas I mean to sail;

"If fortune aids the grand design,

"Worlds yet unthought of shall be mine.

"But how shall I this country find!

"Gay, painted picture of the mind!

"Religion[B] holds my project vain,

"And owns no worlds beyond the main.

[B] The Inquisition made it criminal to assert the existence

of the Antipodes.--_Freneau's note._

"'Midst yonder hills long time has stay'd[50]

"In sylvan cells a wondrous maid,

"Who things to come can truly tell,

"Dread mistress of the magic spell.

"Whate'er the depths of time can shew

"All pass before her in review,

"And all events her eyes survey,

"'Till time and nature both decay.

"I'll to her cave, enquiring there

"What mighty things the fates prepare;

"Whether my hopes and plans are vain,

"Or I must give new worlds to Spain."

PICTURE II.[51]

The Cell of an Inchantress

_Inchantress_

Who dares attempt this gloomy grove

Where never shepherd dream'd of love,

And birds of night are only found,

And poisonous weeds bestrew the ground:

Hence, stranger, take some other road,

Nor dare prophane my dark abode;

The winds are high, the moon is low--

Would you enter?--no, no, no:--

_Columbus_

Sorceress of mighty power![A]

Hither at the midnight hour

Over hill and dale I've come,

Leaving ease and sleep at home:

With daring aims my bosom glows;

Long a stranger to repose,

I have come to learn from you

Whether phantoms I pursue,

Or if, as reason would persuade,

New worlds are on the ocean laid--

Tell me, wonder-working maid,

Tell me, dire inchantress, tell,

Mistress of the magic spell!

[A] The fifteenth century was, like many of the preceding, an

age of superstition, cruelty, and ignorance. When this

circumstance, therefore, is brought into view, the mixture

of truth and fiction will not appear altogether absurd or

unnatural. At any rate, it has ever been tolerated in this

species of poetry.--_Freneau's note._

_Inchantress_

The staring owl her note has sung;

With gaping snakes my cave is hung;

Of maiden hair my bed is made,

Two winding sheets above it laid;

With bones of men my shelves are pil'd,

And toads are for my supper boil'd;

Three ghosts attend to fill my cup,

And four to serve my pottage up;

The crow is waiting to say grace:--

Wouldst thou in such a dismal place

The secrets of thy fortune trace?

_Columbus_

Though death and all his dreary crew

Were to be open'd on my view,

I would not from this threshold fly

'Till you had made a full reply.

Open wide this iron gate,

I must read the book of fate:

Tell me, if beyond the main

Islands are reserv'd for Spain;

Tell me, if beyond the sea

Worlds are to be found by me:

Bid your spirits disappear,

Phantoms of delusive fear,

These are visions I despise,

Shadows and uncertainties.

_Inchantress_

Must I, then, yield to your request!

Columbus, why disturb my rest!--

For this the ungrateful shall combine,

And hard misfortune shall be thine;--

For this the base reward remains

Of cold neglect and galling chains![B]

In a poor solitude forgot,

Reproach and want shall be the lot

Of him that gives new worlds to Spain,

And westward spreads her golden reign.

Before you came to vex my bower

I slept away the evening hour,

Or watch'd the rising of the moon,

With hissing vipers keeping tune,

Or galloping along the glade

Took pleasure in the lunar shade,

And gather'd herbs, or made a prize

Of horses' tails and adders' eyes:

Now open flies the iron gate,

Advance, and read the book of fate!

On thy design what woes attend!

The nations at the ocean's end,

No longer destin'd to be free,

Shall owe distress and death to thee!

The seats of innocence and love

Shall soon the scenes of horror prove:

But why disturb these Indian climes,

The pictures of more happy times!

Has avarice, with unfeeling breast,

Has cruelty thy soul possess'd?

May ruin on thy boldness wait!--

Advance, and read the book of fate.

When vulture, fed but once a week,

And ravens three together shriek,

And skeleton for vengeance cries,

Then shall the fatal curtain rise!

Two lamps in yonder vaulted room,

Suspended o'er a brazen tomb,

Shall lend their glimmerings, as you pass,

To find your fortune in that glass

Whose wondrous virtue is, to show

Whate'er the inquirer wants to know.

[B] In 1498 he was superseded in his command at Hispaniola and

sent home in irons. Soon after finishing his fourth voyage,

finding himself neglected by the Court of Spain after all

his services, he retired to Valladolid, in Old Castile,

where he died on the 20th of May. A. D. 1506.--_Freneau's

note._

PICTURE III.

The Mirror

_Columbus_

Strange things I see, bright mirror, in thy breast:--

There Perseverance stands, and nobly scorns

The gabbling tongue of busy calumny;

Proud Erudition in a scholar's garb

Derides my plans and grins a jeering smile.

Hypocrisy, clad in a doctor's gown,

A western continent deems heresy:

The princes, kings, and nobles of the land

Smile at my projects, and report me mad:

One royal woman only stands my friend,

Bright Isabell, the lady of our hearts,

Whom avarice prompts to aid my purposes,

And love of toys--weak female vanity!--

She gains her point!--three slender barques I see

(Or else the witch's glass deceives mine eye)

Rigg'd trim, and furnish'd out with stores and men,

Fitted for tedious journeys o'er the main:

Columbus--ha!--their motions he directs;

Their captains come, and ask advice from him,

Holding him for the soul of resolution.

Now, now we launch from Palos! prosperous gales

Impel the canvas: now the far fam'd streight

Is pass'd, the pillars of the son of Jove,

Long held the limits of the paths of men:

Ah! what a waste of ocean here begins,

And lonely waves, so black and comfortless!

Light flies each bounding galley o'er the main;

Now Lancerota gathers on our view,

And Teneriffe her clouded summit rears:

Awhile we linger at these islands fair

That seem the utmost boundaries of the world,

Then westward aiming on the unfathom'd deep

Sorrowing, with heavy hearts we urge our way.

Now all is discontent--such oceans pass'd,

No land appearing yet, dejects the most;

Yet, fertile in expedients, I alone

The mask of mild content am forc'd to wear:

A thousand signs I see, or feign to see,

Of shores at hand, and bottoms underneath,

And not a bird that wanders o'er the main,

And not a cloud that traverses the sky

But brings me something to support their hopes:

All fails at last!--so frequently deceiv'd

They growl with anger--mad to look at death

They gnash their teeth, and will be led no more;

On me their vengeance turns: they look at me

As their conductor to the realms of ruin:

Plot after plot discover'd, not reveng'd,

They join against their chief in mutiny:

They urge to plunge him in the boiling deep

As one, the only one that would pursue

Imaginary worlds through boundless seas:--

The scene is chang'd--Fine islands greet mine eye,

Cover'd with trees, and beasts, and yellow men;

Eternal summer through the vallies smiles

And fragrant gales o'er golden meadows play!--

Inchantress, 'tis enough!--now veil your glass--

The curtain falls--and I must homeward pass.

PICTURE IV.

Columbus addresses King Ferdinand

Prince and the pride of Spain! while meaner crowns,

Pleas'd with the shadow of monarchial sway,

Exact obedience from some paltry tract

Scarce worth the pain and toil of governing,

Be thine the generous care to send thy fame

Beyond the knowledge, or the guess of man.

This gulphy deep (that bounds our western reign

So long by civil feuds and wars disgrac'd)

Must be the passage to some other shore

Where nations dwell, children of early time,

Basking in the warm sunshine of the south,

Who some false deity, no doubt, adore,

Owning no virtue in the potent cross:

What honour, sire, to plant your standards there,[A]

And souls recover to our holy faith

That now in paths of dark perdition stray

Warp'd to his worship by the evil one!

Think not that Europe and the Asian waste,

Or Africa, where barren sands abound,

Are the sole gems in Neptune's bosom laid:

Think not the world a vast extended plain:

See yond' bright orbs, that through the ether move,

All globular; this earth a globe like them

Walks her own rounds, attended by the moon,

Bright comrade, but with borrowed lustre bright.

If all the surface of this mighty round

Be one wide ocean of unfathom'd depth

Bounding the little space already known,

Nature must have forgot her wonted wit

And made a monstrous havock of proportion.

If her proud depths were not restrain'd by lands,

And broke by continents of vast extent

Existing somewhere under western skies,

Far other waves would roll before the storms

Than ever yet have burst on Europe's shores,

Driving before them deluge and confusion.

But Nature will preserve what she has plann'd:

And the whole suffrage of antiquity,

Platonic dreams, and reason's plainer page

All point at something that we ought to see

Buried behind the waters of the west,

Clouded with shadows of uncertainty.

The time is come for some sublime event

Of mighty fame:--mankind are children yet,

And hardly dream what treasures they possess

In the dark bosom of the fertile main,

Unfathom'd, unattempted, unexplor'd.

These, mighty prince, I offer to reveal,

And by the magnet's aid, if you supply

Ships and some gallant hearts, will hope to bring

From distant climes, news worthy of a king.

[A] It is allowed by most historians, that Ferdinand was an

implicit believer and one of the must superstitious

bigots of his age.--_Freneau's note._

PICTURE V.

Ferdinand and his First Minister

_Ferdinand_

What would this madman have, this odd projector!

A wild address I have to-day attended,

Mingling its folly with our great affairs,

Dreaming of islands and new hemispheres

Plac'd on the ocean's verge, we know not where--

What shall I do with this petitioner?

_Minister_

Even send him, sire, to perish in his search:

He has so pester'd me these many years

With idle projects of discovery--

His name--I almost dread to hear it mention'd:

He is a Genoese of vulgar birth

And has been round all Europe with his plans

Presenting them to every potentate;

He lives, 'tis said, by vending maps and charts,[52]

And being us'd to sketch imagin'd islands

On that blank space that represents the seas,

His head at last grows giddy with this folly,

And fancied isles are turned to real lands

With which he puzzles me perpetually:

What pains me too, is, that our royal lady

Lends him her ear, and reads his mad addresses,

Oppos'd to reason and philosophy.

_Ferdinand_

He acts the devil's part in Eden's garden;

Knowing the man was proof to his temptations

He whisper'd something in the ear of Eve,

And promis'd much, but meant not to perform.

_Minister_

I've treated all his schemes with such contempt

That any but a rank, mad-brain'd enthusiast,

Pushing his purpose to extremities,

Would have forsook your empire, royal sir,

Discourag'd, and forgotten long ago.

_Ferdinand_

Has he so long been busy at his projects?--

I scarcely heard of him till yesterday:

A plan pursued with so much obstinacy

Looks not like madness:--wretches of that stamp

Survey a thousand objects in an hour,

In love with each, and yet attach'd to none

Beyond the moment that it meets the eye--

But him I honour, tho' in beggar's garbs,

Who has a soul of so much constancy

As to bear up against the hard rebuffs,

Sneers of great men, and insolence of power,

And through the opposition of them all

Pursues his object:--Minister, this man

Must have our notice:--Let him be commissioned

Viceroy of all the lands he shall discover,

Admiral and general in the fleets of Spain;

Let three stout ships be instantly selected,

The best and strongest ribb'd of all we own,

With men to mann them, patient of fatigue:

But stay, attend! how stands our treasury?--

_Minister_

Empty--even to the bottom, royal sir!

We have not coin for bare necessities,

Much less, so pardon me, to spend on madmen.

PICTURE VI.

Columbus addresses Queen Isabella

While Turkish queens, dejected, pine,

Compell'd sweet freedom to resign;

And taught one virtue, to obey,

Lament some eastern tyrant's sway,

Queen of our hearts, bright Isabell!

A happier lot to you has fell,

Who makes a nation's bliss your own,

And share the rich Castilian throne.

Exalted thus, beyond all fame,

Assist, fair lady, that proud aim

Which would your native reign extend

To the wide world's remotest end.

From science, fed by busy thought,

New wonders to my view are brought:

The vast abyss beyond our shore

I deem impassable no more.

Let those that love to dream or sleep

Pretend no limits to the deep:

I see beyond the rolling main

Abounding wealth reserv'd for Spain.

From Nature's earliest days conceal'd,

Men of their own these climates yield,

And scepter'd dames, no doubt, are there,

Queens like yourself, but not so fair.

But what should most provoke desire

Are the fine pearls that they admire,

And diamonds bright and coral green

More fit to grace a Spanish queen.

Their yellow shells, and virgin gold,

And silver, for our trinkets sold,

Shall well reward this toil and pain,

And bid our commerce shine again.

As men were forc'd from Eden's shade

By errors that a woman made,

Permit me at a woman's cost

To find the climates that we lost.

He that with you partakes command,

The nation's hope, great Ferdinand,

Attends, indeed, to my request,

But wants no empires in the west.

Then, queen, supply the swelling sail,

For eastward breathes the steady gale

That shall the meanest barque convey

To regions richer than Cathay.[A]

[A] The ancient name for China.--_Freneau's note._

Arriv'd upon that flowery coast

Whole towns of golden temples boast,

While these bright objects strike our view

Their wealth shall be reserv'd for you.

Each swarthy king shall yield his crown,

And smiling lay their sceptres down,

When they, not tam'd by force of arms,

Shall hear the story of your charms.

Did I an empty dream pursue

Great honour still must wait on you,

Who sent the lads of Spain to keep

Such vigils on the untravell'd deep,

Who fix'd the bounds of land and sea,

Trac'd Nature's works through each degree,

Imagin'd some unheard of shore

But prov'd that there was nothing more.

Yet happier prospects, I maintain,

Shall open on your female reign,

While ages hence with rapture tell

How much they owe to Isabell!

PICTURE VII.

Queen Isabella's Page of Honour writing a reply to Columbus

Your yellow shells, and coral green.

And gold, and silver--not yet seen,

Have made such mischief in a woman's mind

The queen could almost pillage from the crown,

And add some costly jewels of her own,

Thus sending you that charming coast to find

Where all these heavenly things abound,

Queens in the west, and chiefs renown'd.

But then no great men take you by the hand,

Nor are the nobles busied in your aid;

The clergy have no relish for your scheme,

And deem it madness--one archbishop said

You were bewilder'd in a paltry dream

That led directly to undoubted ruin,

Your own and other men's undoing:--

And our confessor says it is not true,

And calls it heresy in you

Thus to assert the world is round,

And that Antipodes are found

Held to the earth, we can't tell how.--

But you shall sail; I heard the queen declare

That mere geography is not her care;--

And thus she bids me say,

"Columbus, haste away,

"Hasten to Palos, and if you can find

"Three barques, of structure suited to your mind,

"Strait make a purchase in the royal name;

"Equip them for the seas without delay,

"Since long the journey is (we heard you say)

"To that rich country which we wish to claim.--

"Let them be small--for know the crown is poor

"Though basking in the sunshine of renown.

"Long wars have wasted us: the pride of Spain

"Was ne'er before so high, nor purse so mean;

"Giving us ten years' war, the humbled Moor

"Has left us little else but victory:

"Time must restore past splendor to our reign."

PICTURE VIII.

Columbus at the Harbour of Palos, in Andalusia

_Columbus_

In three small barques to cross so vast a sea,

Held to be boundless, even in learning's eye,

And trusting only to a magic glass,

Which may have represented things untrue,

Shadows and visions for realities!--[53]

It is a bold attempt!--Yet I must go,

Travelling the surge to its great boundary;

Far, far away beyond the reach of men,

Where never galley spread her milk-white sail

Or weary pilgrim bore the Christian name!

But though I were confirm'd in my design

And saw the whole event with certainty,

How shall I so exert my eloquence,

And hold such arguments with vulgar minds

As to convince them I am not an idiot

Chasing the visions of a shatter'd brain,

Ending in their perdition and my own?

The world, and all its wisdom is against me;

The dreams of priests; philosophy in chains;

False learning swoln with self-sufficiency;

Men seated at the helm of royalty

Reasoning like school-boys;--what discouragements!

Experience holds herself mine enemy,

And one weak woman only hears my story!--

I'll make a speech--"Here jovial sailors, here!

"Ye that would rise beyond the rags of fortune,

"Struggling too long with hopeless poverty,

"Coasting your native shores on shallow seas,

"Vex'd by the gallies of the Ottoman;

"Now meditate with me a bolder plan,

"Catching at fortune in her plenitude!

"He that shall undertake this voyage with me

"Shall be no longer held a vulgar man:

"Princes shall wish they had been our companions,

"And Science blush she did not go along

"To learn a lesson that might humble pride

"Now grinning idly from a pedant's cap,

"Lurking behind the veil of cowardice.

"Far in the west a golden region lies

"Unknown, unvisited for many an age,

"Teeming with treasures to enrich the brave.

"Embark, embark--Columbus leads the way--

"Why, friends, existence is alike to me

"Dear and desireable with other men;

"What good could I devise in seeking ruin?

"Embark, I say; and he that sails with me

"Shall reap a harvest of immortal honour:

"Wealthier he shall return than they that now

"Lounge in the lap of principalities,

"Hoarding the gorgeous treasures of the east."--

Alas, alas! they turn their backs upon me,

And rather choose to wallow in the mire

Of want, and torpid inactivity,

Than by one bold and masterly exertion

Themselves ennoble, and enrich their country!

PICTURE IX.

A Sailor's Hut, near the Shore

Thomas and Susan

_Thomas_

I wish I was over the water again!

'Tis a pity we cannot agree;

When I try to be merry 'tis labour in vain,

You always are scolding at me;

Then what shall I do

With this termagant Sue;

Tho' I hug her and squeeze her

I never can please her--

Was there ever a devil like you!

_Susan_

If I was a maid as I now am a wife

With a sot and a brat to maintain,

I think it should be the first care of my life,

To shun such a drunkard again:

Not one of the crew

Is so hated by Sue;

Though they always are bawling,

And pulling and hauling--

Not one is a puppy like you.[54]

_Thomas_

Dear Susan, I'm sorry that you should complain:

There is nothing indeed to be done;

If a war should break out, not a sailor in Spain

Would sooner be found at his gun:

Arriving from sea

I would kneel on one knee,

And the plunder presenting

To Susan relenting--

Who then would be honour'd like me!

_Susan_

To-day as I came by the sign of the ship,

A mighty fine captain was there,

He was asking for sailors to take a small trip,

But I cannot remember well where:

He was hearty and free,

And if you can agree

To leave me, dear honey,

To bring me some money!--

How happy--indeed--I shall be!

_Thomas_

The man that you saw not a sailor can get,

'Tis a captain Columbus, they say;

To fit out a ship he is running in debt,

And our wages he never will pay:

Yes, yes, it is he,

And, Sue, do ye see,

On a wild undertaking

His heart he is breaking--

The devil may take him for me!

PICTURE X.

Bernardo, a Spanish Friar, in his canonicals

Did not our holy book most clearly say

This earth is built upon a pillar'd base;

And did not Reason add convincing proofs

That this huge world is one continued plain

Extending onward to immensity,

Bounding with oceans these abodes of men,

I should suppose this dreamer had some hopes,

Some prospects built on probability.

What says our lord the pope--he cannot err--

He says, our world is not orbicular,

And has rewarded some with chains and death

Who dar'd defend such wicked heresies.

But we are turning heretics indeed!--

A foreigner, an idiot, an impostor,

An infidel (since he dares contradict

What our most holy order holds for truth)

Is pouring poison in the royal ear;

Telling him tales of islands in the moon,

Leading the nation into dangerous errors,

Slighting instruction from our brotherhood!--

O Jesu! Jesu! what an age is this!

PICTURE XI.

Orosio, a Mathematician, with his scales and compasses

This persevering man succeeds at last!

The last gazette has publish'd to the world

That Ferdinand and Isabella grant

Three well rigg'd ships to Christopher Columbus;

And have bestow'd the noble titles too

Of Admiral and Vice-Roy--great indeed!--

Who will not now project, and scrawl on paper--

Pretenders now shall be advanc'd to honour;

And every pedant that can frame a problem,

And every lad that can draw parallels

Or measure the subtension of an angle,

Shall now have ships to make discoveries.

This simple man would sail he knows not where;

Building on fables, schemes of certainty;--

Visions of Plato, mix'd with idle tales

Of later date, intoxicate his brain:

Let him advance beyond a certain point

In his fantastic voyage, and I foretell

He never can return: ay, let him go!--

There is a line towards the setting sun

Drawn on an ocean of tremendous depth,

(Where nature plac'd the limits of the day)

Haunted by dragons, fond of solitude,

Red serpents, fiery forms, and yelling hags,

Fit company for mad adventurers.--

There, when the sun descends, 'tis horror all;

His angry globe through vast abysses gliding

Burns in the briny bosom of the deep

Making a havoc so detestable,

And causing such a wasteful ebullition

That never island green, or continent

Could find foundation, there to grow upon.

PICTURE XII.

Columbus and a Pilot

_Columbus_

To take on board the sweepings of a jail

Is inexpedient in a voyage like mine,

That will require most patient fortitude,

Strict vigilance and staid sobriety,

Contempt of death on cool reflection founded,

A sense of honour, motives of ambition,

And every sentiment that sways the brave.--

Princes should join me now!--not those I mean

Who lurk in courts, or revel in the shade

Of painted ceilings:--those I mean, more worthy,

Whose daring aims and persevering souls,

Soaring beyond the sordid views of fortune,

Bespeak the lineage of true royalty.

_Pilot_

A fleet arrived last month at Carthagene

From Smyrna, Cyprus, and the neighbouring isles:

Their crews, releas'd from long fatigues at sea,

Have spent their earnings in festivity,

And hunger tells them they must out again.

Yet nothing instantly presents itself

Except your new and noble expedition:

The fleet must undergo immense repairs,

And numbers will be unemploy'd awhile:

I'll take them in the hour of dissipation

(Before reflection has made cowards of them,

Suggesting questions of impertinence)

When desperate plans are most acceptable,

Impossibilities are possible,

And all the spring and vigour of the mind

Is strain'd to madness and audacity:

If you approve my scheme, our ninety men

(The number you pronounce to be sufficient)

Shall all be enter'd in a week, at most.

_Columbus_

Go, pilot, go--and every motive urge

That may put life into this expedition.

Early in August we must weigh our anchors.

Time wears apace---bring none but willing men,

So shall our orders be the better borne,

The people less inclin'd to mutiny.

PICTURE XIII.

Discontents at Sea

_Antonio_

Dreadful is death in his most gentle forms!

More horrid still on this mad element,

So far remote from land--from friends remote!

So many thousand leagues already sail'd

In quest of visions!--what remains to us

But perishing in these moist solitudes;

Where many a day our corpses on the sea

Shall float unwept, unpitied, unentomb'd!

O fate most terrible!--undone Antonio!

Why didst thou listen to a madman's dreams,

Pregnant with mischief--why not, comrades, rise!--

See, Nature's self prepares to leave us here;

The needle, once so faithful to the pole,

Now quits his object and bewilders us;

Steering at random, just as chance directs--

O fate most terrible!--undone Antonio!--

_Hernando_

Borne to creation's utmost verge, I saw

New stars ascending, never view'd before!

Low sinks the bear!--O land, my native land,

Clear springs and shady groves! why did I change

Your aspect fair for these infernal wastes,

Peopled by monsters of another kind;

Ah me! design'd not for the view of man!

_Columbus_

Cease, dastards, cease; and be inform'd that man

Is nature's lord, and wields her to his will;

If her most noble works obey our aims,

How much more so ought worthless scum, like you,

Whose whole existence is a morning dream,

Whose life is sunshine on a wintry day,

Who shake at shadows, struck with palsied fear:

Measuring the limit of your lives by distance.

_Antonio_

Columbus, hear! when with the land we parted

You thirty days agreed to plough the main,

Directing westward.--Thirty have elaps'd,

And thirty more have now begun their round,

No land appearing yet, nor trace of land,

But distant fogs that mimic lofty isles,

Painting gay landscapes on the vapourish air,

Inhabited by fiends that mean our ruin--

You persevere, and have no mercy on us--

Then perish by yourself--we must return--

And know, our firm resolve is fix'd for Spain;

In this resolve we are unanimous.

Juan de Villa-Real to Columbus

(A Billet)

"I heard them over night a plot contriving

"Of fatal purpose--have a care, Columbus!--

"They have resolv'd, as on the deck you stand,

"Aiding the vigils of the midnight hour,

"To plunge you headlong in the roaring deep,

"And slaughter such as favour your design

"Still to pursue this western continent."

_Columbus, solus_

Why, nature, hast thou treated those so ill,

Whose souls, capacious of immense designs,

Leave ease and quiet for a nation's glory,

Thus to subject them to these little things,

Insects, by heaven's decree in shapes of men!

But so it is, and so we must submit,

Bending to thee, the heaven's great chancellor!

But must I fail!--and by timidity!

Must thou to thy green waves receive me, Neptune,

Or must I basely with my ships return,

Nothing accomplish'd!--not one pearl discover'd,

One bit of gold to make our queen a bracelet,

One diamond for the crown of Ferdinand!

How will their triumph be confirm'd, who said

That I was mad!--Must I then change my course,

And quit the country that would strait appear,

If one week longer we pursued the sun!--

The witch's glass was not delusion, sure!--

All this, and more, she told me to expect!--[55] (_To the crew_)

"Assemble, friends; attend to what I say:

"Signs unequivocal, at length, declare

"That some great continent approaches us:

"The sea no longer glooms unmeasur'd depths,[56]

"The setting sun discovers clouds that owe

"Their origin to fens and woodland wastes,

"Not such as breed on ocean's salt domain:--

"Vast flocks of birds attend us on our way,

"These all have haunts amidst the watry void.

"Sweet scenes of ease, and sylvan solitude,

"And springs, and streams that we shall share with them.

"Now, hear my most importunate request:

"I call you all my friends; you are my equals,

"Men of true worth and native dignity,

"Whose spirits are too mighty to return

"Most meanly home, when nothing is accomplish'd--

"Consent to sail our wonted course with me

"But one week longer, and if that be spent,

"And nought appear to recompence our toil,

"Then change our course and homeward haste away--

"Nay, homeward not!--for that would be too base--

"But to some negro coast,[57] where we may hide,

"And never think of Ferdinand again."

_Hernando_

One week!--too much--it shall not be, Columbus!

Already are we on the verge of ruin,

Warm'd by the sunshine of another sphere,

Fann'd by the breezes of the burning zone,

Launch'd out upon the world's extremities!--

Who knows where one week more may carry us?

_Antonio_

Nay, talk not to the traitor!--base Columbus,

To thee our ruin and our deaths we owe!

Away, away!--friends!--men at liberty,

Now free to act as best befits our case,

Appoint another pilot to the helm,

And Andalusia be our port again!

_Columbus_

Friends, is it thus you treat your admiral,

Who bears the honours of great Ferdinand,

The royal standard, and the arms of Spain!

Three days allow me--and I'll show new worlds.

_Hernando_

Three days!--one day will pass too tediously--

But in the name of all our crew, Columbus,

Whose speaker and controuler I am own'd;

Since thou indeed art a most gallant man,

Three days we grant--but ask us not again!

PICTURE XIV.

Columbus at Cat Island

_Columbus, solus_

Hail, beauteous land! the first that greets mine eye

Since, bold, we left the cloud capp'd Teneriffe,

The world's last limit long suppos'd by men.--

Tir'd with dull prospects of the watry waste

And midnight dangers that around us grew,

Faint hearts and feeble hands and traitors vile,

Thee, Holy Saviour, on this foreign land

We still adore, and name this coast from thee![A]

In these green groves who would not wish to stay,

Where guardian nature holds her quiet reign,

Where beardless men speak other languages,

Unknown to us, ourselves unknown to them.

[A] He called the island San Salvador (Holy Saviour). It

lies about ninety miles S.E. from Providence; is one of

the Bahama cluster, and to the eastward of the Grand

Bank.--_Freneau's note._

_Antonio_

In tracing o'er the isle no gold I find--

Nought else but barren trees and craggy rocks

Where screaming sea-fowl mix their odious loves,

And fields of burning marle, where devils play

And men with copper skins talk barbarously;--

What merit has our chief in sailing hither,

Discovering countries of no real worth!

Spain has enough of barren sands, no doubt,

And savages in crowds are found at home;--

Why then surmount the world's circumference

Merely to stock us with this Indian breed?

_Hernando_

Soft!--or Columbus will detect your murmuring--

This new found isle has re-instated him

In all our favours--see you yonder sands?--

Why, if you see them, swear that they are gold,

And gold like this shall be our homeward freight,

Gladding the heart of Ferdinand the great,

Who, when he sees it, shall say smilingly,

"Well done, advent'rous fellows, you have brought

"The treasure we expected and deserv'd!"--

Hold!--I am wrong--there goes a savage man

With gold suspended from his ragged ears:

I'll brain the monster for the sake of gold;

There, savage, try the power of Spanish steel--

'Tis of Toledo[B]--true and trusty stuff!

He falls! he falls! the gold, the gold is mine!

First acquisition in this golden isle!--

[B] The best steel-blades in Spain are manufactured at Toledo

and Bilboa.--_Freneau's note._

_Columbus, solus_

Sweet sylvan scenes of innocence and ease,

How calm and joyous pass the seasons here!

No splendid towns or spiry turrets rise,

No lordly palaces--no tyrant kings

Enact hard laws to crush fair freedom here;

No gloomy jails to shut up wretched men;

All, all are free!--here God and nature reign;

Their works unsullied by the hands of men.--

Ha! what is this--a murder'd wretch I see,[58]

His blood yet warm--O hapless islander,

Who could have thus so basely mangled thee,

Who never offer'd insult to our shore--

Was it for those poor trinkets in your ears

Which by the custom of your tribe you wore,--

Now seiz'd away--and which would not have weigh'd

One poor piastre!

Is this the fruit of my discovery!

If the first scene is murder, what shall follow

But havock, slaughter, chains and devastation

In every dress and form of cruelty!

O injur'd Nature, whelm me in the deep,

And let not Europe hope for my return,

Or guess at worlds upon whose threshold now

So black a deed has just been perpetrated!--

We must away--enjoy your woods in peace,

Poor, wretched, injur'd, harmless islanders;--

On Hayti's[C] isle you say vast stores are found

Of this destructive gold--which without murder

Perhaps, we may possess!--away, away!

And southward, pilots, seek another isle,

Fertile they say, and of immense extent:

There we may fortune find without a crime.

[C] This island is now called Hispaniola, but is of late

recovering its ancient name.--_Freneau's note._

PICTURE XV.

Columbus in a Tempest, on his return to Spain

The storm hangs low; the angry lightning glares

And menaces destruction to our masts;

The Corposant[A] is busy on the decks,

The soul, perhaps, of some lost admiral

Taking his walks about most leisurely,

Foreboding we shall be with him to-night:

See, now he mounts the shrouds--as he ascends

The gale grows bolder!--all is violence!

Seas, mounting from the bottom of their depths,

Hang o'er our heads with all their horrid curls

Threatening perdition to our feeble barques,

Which three hours longer cannot bear their fury,

Such heavy strokes already shatter them;

Who can endure such dreadful company!--

Then, must we die with our discovery!

Must all my labours, all my pains, be lost,

And my new world in old oblivion sleep?--

My name forgot, or if it be remember'd,

Only to have it said, "He was a madman

"Who perish'd as he ought--deservedly--

"In seeking what was never to be found!"--

Let's obviate what we can this horrid sentence,

And, lost ourselves, perhaps, preserve our name.

'Tis easy to contrive this painted casket,

(Caulk'd, pitch'd, secur'd with canvas round and round)

That it may float for months upon the main,

Bearing the freight within secure and dry:

In this will I an abstract of our voyage,

And islands found, in little space enclose:

The western winds in time may bear it home

To Europe's coasts: or some wide wandering ship

By accident may meet it toss'd about,

Charg'd with the story of another world.

[A] A vapour common at sea in bad weather, something larger

and rather paler than the light of a candle; which,

seeming to rise out of the sea, first moves about the

decks, and then ascends or descends the rigging in

proportion to the increase or decrease of the storm.

Superstition formerly imagined them to be the souls of

drowned men.--_Freneau's note._

PICTURE XVI.

Columbus visits the Court at Barcelona

_Ferdinand_

Let him be honour'd like a God, who brings

Tidings of islands at the ocean's end!

In royal robes let him be straight attir'd.

And seated next ourselves, the noblest peer.

_Isabella_

The merit of this gallant deed is mine:

Had not my jewels furnish'd out the fleet

Still had this world been latent in the main.--

Since on this project every man look'd cold,

A woman, as his patroness, shall shine;

And through the world the story shall be told,

A woman gave new continents to Spain.

_Columbus_

A world, great prince, bright queen and royal lady,

Discover'd now, has well repaid our toils;

We to your bounty owe all that we are;

Men of renown and to be fam'd in story.

Islands of vast extent we have discover'd

With gold abounding: see a sample here

Of those most precious metals we admire;

And Indian men, natives of other climes,

Whom we have brought to do you princely homage,

Owning they hold their diadems from you.

_Ferdinand_

To fifteen sail your charge shall be augmented:

Hasten to Palos, and prepare again

To sail in quest of this fine golden country,

The Ophir, never known to Solomon;

Which shall be held the brightest gem we have,

The richest diamond in the crown of Spain.

PICTURE XVII.

Columbus in Chains[A]

[A] During his third voyage, while in San Domingo, such

unjust representations were made of his conduct to the

Court of Spain, that a new admiral, Bovadilla, was

appointed to supersede him, who sent Columbus home in

irons.--_Freneau's note._

Are these the honours they reserve for me,

Chains for the man that gave new worlds to Spain!

Rest here, my swelling heart!--O kings, O queens,

Patrons of monsters, and their progeny,

Authors of wrong, and slaves to fortune merely!

Why was I seated by my prince's side,

Honour'd, caress'd like some first peer of Spain?

Was it that I might fall most suddenly

From honour's summit to the sink of scandal!

'Tis done, 'tis done!--what madness is ambition!

What is there in that little breath of men,

Which they call Fame, that should induce the brave

To forfeit ease and that domestic bliss

Which is the lot of happy ignorance,

Less glorious aims, and dull humility?--

Whoe'er thou art that shalt aspire to honour,

And on the strength and vigour of the mind

Vainly depending, court a monarch's favour,

Pointing the way to vast extended empire;

First count your pay to be ingratitude,

Then chains and prisons, and disgrace like mine!

Each wretched pilot now shall spread his sails,

And treading in my footsteps, hail new worlds,

Which, but for me, had still been empty visions.

PICTURE XVIII.

Columbus at Valladolid[A]

[A] After he found himself in disgrace with the Court of

Spain, he retired to Vallodolid, a town of Old Castile,

where he died, it is said, more of a broken heart than any

other disease, on the 20th of May, 1506.--_Freneau's note._

How sweet is sleep, when gain'd by length of toil!

No dreams disturb the slumbers of the dead--

To snatch existence from this scanty soil,

Were these the hopes deceitful fancy bred;

And were her painted pageants nothing more

Than this life's phantoms by delusion led?

The winds blow high: one other world remains;

Once more without a guide I find the way;

In the dark tomb to slumber with my chains--

Prais'd by no poet on my funeral day,

Nor even allow'd one dearly purchas'd claim--

My new found world not honour'd with my name.

Yet, in this joyless gloom while I repose,

Some comfort will attend my pensive shade,

When memory paints, and golden fancy shows

My toils rewarded, and my woes repaid;

When empires rise where lonely forests grew,

Where Freedom shall her generous plans pursue.

To shadowy forms, and ghosts and sleepy things,

Columbus, now with dauntless heart repair;

You liv'd to find new worlds for thankless kings,

Write this upon my tomb--yes--tell it there--

Tell of those chains that sullied all my glory--

Not mine, but their's--ah, tell the shameful story.

[48] First published in the edition of 1788, the text of which I have

reproduced. Aside from several significant changes in Picture I., and

the total omission of Pictures II. and III., the later editions contain

but few variations. The edition of 1795 is signed "Anno 1774."

[49] The four stanzas beginning "This world on paper idly drawn," are

omitted from later editions, and the stanza beginning "But westward

plac'd" is made to read:

"Far to the west what lengthen'd seas!

"Are no gay islands found in these,

"No sylvan worlds, by Nature meant

"To balance Asia's vast extent?"

[50] In later editions the last three stanzas are omitted, and in their

place is added the following, taken partly from the words of the

Inchantress in the next picture:

"If Neptune on my prowess smiles,

And I detect his hidden isles,

I hear some warning spirit say:

'_No monarch will your toils repay:

'For this the ungrateful shall combine,

'And hard misfortune must be thine;

'For this the base reward remains

'Of cold neglect and galling chains!

'In a poor solitude forgot,

'Reproach and want shall be the lot

'Of him that gives new worlds to Spain

'And westward spreads her golden reign.

'On thy design what woes attend!

'The nations at the ocean's end

'No longer destined to be free

'Shall owe distress and death to thee!

'The seats of innocence and love

'Shall soon the scenes of horror prove;

'But why disturb these Indian climes,

'The pictures of more happy times!

'Has avarice, with unfeeling breast,

'Has cruelty thy soul possess'd?

'May ruin on thy boldness wait!--

'And sorrow crown thy toils too late!_'"

[51] Pictures II. and III. are omitted from later editions.

[52] The six lines beginning here are omitted in the later versions.

[53] This and the two preceding lines omitted in later versions.

[54] "Not one is so noisy as you."--_Ed. 1795._

[55] This and preceding line omitted in later versions.

[56] Two lines added in later editions:

"Small motes I see, from ebbing rivers borne,

And Neptune's waves a greener aspect wear."

[57] "But to the depths below."--_Ed. 1795._

[58] One line added in later versions:

"A Spanish ponyard thro' his entrails driven."

THE EXPEDITION OF TIMOTHY TAURUS, ASTROLOGER

TO THE FALLS OF PASSAICK RIVER, IN NEW JERSEY[59]

Written soon after an excursion to the village at that place in

August, 1775, under the character of Timothy Taurus, a student in

astrology; and formerly printed in New-York.

CHARACTERS OF THE POEM

Timothy Taurus, Astrologer, in love with Tryphena.

Slyboots, a Quaker, and his two Daughters.

Dullman, a City Broker.

Deacon Samuel.

Brigadier-General Nimrod.

Lawyer Ludwick.

Parson Pedro.

Doctor Sangrado.

Saunders, a Horse Jockey.

Gubbin, a Tavern-keeper.

Scalpella Gubbin, his Wife.

Mithollan, a Farmer.

My morning of life is beclouded with care!

I will go to Passaick, I say and I swear--

To the falls of Passaick, that elegant scene,

Where all is so pretty, and all is so green--

That river Passaick!--celestial indeed!

That river of rivers, no rivers exceed.--

Now why, I would ask, should I puzzle my brain

The nature of stars, or their use to explain--

To trace the effects they may have on our earth,

How govern our actions, or rule at our birth?

Five years have I been at these studies, and scanned

All the books on the subject that sophists have planned!

I am sorry to say (yet it ought to be said)

The stars have not sent me one rye loaf of bread!

Not a shilling to purchase a glass of good beer,--

By my soul, it's enough to make ministers swear.

Tryphena may argue, and say what she will,

I am sure all my fortune is going down hill:

Dear girl! if you wait 'till the planets are for us

Your name will scarce alter to Tryphena Taurus.

Tryphena! I love you--have courted you long--

But find all my labours will end in a song!--

"Will you play at all-fours?"--she said, very jolly;--

I answered, The play at all-fours is all folly!

"Will you play, then, at whist?"--she obligingly said;--

I answered, the game is gone out of my head--

Indeed, I am weary--I feel rather sick,

So, I leave you, Tryphena, to win the odd trick.--

There's a music some talk of, that's play'd by the spheres:--

I wish him all luck who this harmony hears;

And the people who hear it, I hope they may find

It is not a music that fills them with wind.--

There's Saturn, and Venus, and Jove, and the rest:

Their music to me is not quite of the best.--

These orbs of the stars, and that globe of the moon

To me, I am certain, all play a wrong tune.

Not a creature that plods in, or ploughs up the dirt,

But from the mean clod gets a better support:

Then farewell to Mars, and the rest of the gang,

And the comets--I tell them they all may go hang;

I mean, if they only with music will treat,

It is not to me the best cooked of all meat.

They may go where they will, and return when they please,--

And I hope they'll remember to pay up my fees--

So I leave them awhile, to be cheerful below,

And away to Passaick most merrily go!

The month, it was August, and meltingly warm,

Not a cloud in the sky nor the sign of a storm;

So I jumped in the stage, with the freight of the fair,

And in less than a day at Passaick we were.--

Well, arrived at the Falls, I procured me a bed

In a box of a house--you might call it a shed;

The best of the taverns were all pre-engaged,

So I barely was lodged, or rather encaged;

Yet, cage as it was, I enjoyed a regale

Of victuals three times every day, without fail:

There was poultry, and pyes, and a dozen things more

That the damnable college had never in store:

I feasted, and lived on such fat of the place

That the college would not have remembered my face--

So long had I fed on their trash algebraic,

Indeed, it was time I went to Passaick!--

The rocks were amazing, and such was the height,

They struck me at once with surprize and delight.

The waters rushed down with a terrible roar--

What a pleasure it was to be lounging on shore!

They now were as clear as old Helicon's stream,

Or as clear as the clearest in poetry's dream.--

These falls were stupendous, the fountains so clear,

That another Narcissus might see himself here,

Nor only Narcissus--some ill-featured faces

From the springs were reflected--not made up of graces.

But now I must tell you--what people were met:

They were, on my conscience, a wonderful sett;

Some came for their health, and some came for their pleasure,

And to steal from the city a fortnight of leisure;

Some came for a day, and yet more for a week,

Some came from the college, tormented with Greek,

To continue as long as their means would afford,

That is, while the taverns would trust them their board:

(Of this last mentioned class, I confess I was one,

For why should I fib when the mischief is done?)

This age may decay, and another may rise,

Before it is fully revealed to our eyes,

That Latin, and Hebrew, Chaldaic, and Greek,

To the shades of oblivion must certainly sneak;

Too much of our time is employed on such trash

When we ought to be taught to accumulate cash.

Supposing I knew them as pat as my prayers

(And to know them completely would cost me twelve years)

Supposing, I say, I had Virgil by rote,

And could talk with old Homer--'tis not worth a groat;

If with Rabbi Bensalem I knew how to chat,

Where lies the advantage?--and what of all that?

Were this cart load of learning the whole that I knew,

I could sooner get forward by mending a shoe:

I could sooner grow rich by the axe or the spade,

Or thrive by the meanest mechanical trade,

The tinker himself would be richer than I,

For the tinker has something that people must buy,

While such as have little but Latin to vend,

On a shadow may truly be said to depend;

Old words, and old phrases that nothing bestow,

And the owners discarded ten ages ago.--

Here were people on people--I hardly know who--

There was Mammon the merchant, and Japhet the Jew:

There was Slyboots the Quaker, whose coat had no flaps,

With two of his Lambkins, as plain in their caps.

In silks of the richest I saw them array,

But nothing was cut in our mode of the day,

They hung to old habits as firm as to rocks,

And are just what they were in the days of George Fox.

They talked in a style that was wholly their own;

They shunned the vain world, and were mostly alone,

One talked in the Nay, and one talked in the Yea,

And of light in their lanthorns that no one could see:

They hated the crowd, and they hated the play,

And hoped the vain actors would soon run away;--

No follies like that would the preachers allow;

And Tabitha said thee, and Rebecca said thou.

Here was Dullman, the broker, who looked as demure

As if a false key had unlocked the shop door:

He seemed to enjoy not a moment of rest,

So unhappy to be--far away from his chest.

He was all on the fidgets to be with his gold:

Both honour and conscience he bartered, or sold--

The devil himself--excuse me, I pray--

Old Satan--oh no--take it some other way--

The God of this world had him fast by a chain,

And there let us leave him--and let him remain.--

Here was Samuel, the Deacon, who read a large book,

Though few but himself on its pages would look;

Would you know what it was?--an abridgement of Flavell,[A]

With Bunyan's whole war between soul and the devil;--

It seemed very old, and the worse for the wear,

And might last the next century, handled with care;

But if fashions and folly should not have a fall,

I presume it will hardly be handled at all.--

Here was Nimrod the soldier--he wore a long sword,

And, of course, all the ladies his courage adored;

Two fringed epaulettes on his shoulders displayed,

Discovered the rank of this son of the blade.

"O la!" cried Miss Kitty, "how bold he must be!

Papa! we must beg him to join us at tea!

How much like a hero he looketh--good me!

Full many a battle, no doubt, he has stood,

And waded shoe deep through a mill pond of mud!

What heads have been sliced from the place they possessed

By the sword at his side!--all, I hope, for the best!"

Then the soldier went out, to refresh at the inn--

Perhaps he did not--if he did it's no sin--

He made his congee, and he bowed to us all,

And said he was going to Liberty Hall:

'Tis certain he went, but certainly where

I cannot inform, and the devil may care.

But now to proceed, in describing in rhyme

The folks that came hither to pass away time:

There were more that had heads rather shallow than strong,

And more than had money to bear them out long.

In short, there were many more ladies than gents,

And the latter complained of the heavy expense!

And some I could see, with their splendour and show,

That their credit was bad, and their pockets were low;

Many females were gadding, I saw with concern,

Who had better been knitting, or weaving their yarn.

And many went into Passaick to lave

Whose hides were, indeed, a disgrace to the wave;

Who should have been home at their houses and farms,

Not here to be dabbling, to shew us their charms:

It would have been better to wash their own walls

Than here--to come here, to be washed in the falls.

A judge of the court (in the law a mere goose)

Here wasted his time with a lawyer let loose.

Their books were thrown by--so I begged of the fates

That the falls of Passaick might fall on their pates.

This lawyer was Ludwick, who scarce had a suit,

And for once in his life was disposed to be mute,

But was mostly engaged in some crazy dispute:

A cause against Smyth[B] he could never defend,

As well might the Old One with Michael contend:

The road was before him, the country was spacious,

And he knew an old fellow called _fieri facias_:--

I saw him demurr, when they asked him to pay--

With a _noli-pros-equi_ he scampered away.--

Though his head was profusely be-plaistered with meal,

One sorrowful secret it could not conceal,

That he drew his first breath when a two penny star

Presided, and governed this son of the bar.

Here was Pedro, the parson, who looked full as grave

As it he had lodged in Trophonius's cave.

He talked of his wine, and he talked of his beer,

And he talked of his texts, that were not very clear;

And many suspected he talked very queer.--

He talked with Scalpella, the inn-holder's wife,

Then dwelt on her beauties, and called her his life!--

He ogled Scalpella!--and spake of her charms;

And oh! how he wished to repose in her arms:

He called her his deary, and talked of their loves;

And left her at last--a pair of old gloves!

I was sorry to see him deranged and perplext

That no one would ask him to handle a text:--

All gaped when he spoke, and incessantly gazed,

And thought him no witch, but a parson be-crazed.

Fine work did he make of Millennium, I trow,

Which he told us would come (tho' it comes very slow)

When earth with the pious and just will abound

And Eden itself at Egg-Harbour be found:

No musketoes to bite us, no rats to molest,

And lawyers themselves rocked into something like rest.

But most of us judged it was rather a whim,

Or, at least, that the prospect was distant and dim.

So I saw him pack up his polemical gown,

To retreat while he could from the noise of the town.[C]

He said there was something in Falls he admired,

But of constantly hearing the roar--he was tired!

With their damp exhalations his fancy was dimmed,

He would come the next spring with his surplice new trimmed,

Besides there were fogs in the morning (he said)

That rose on the river and muddled his head!--

Thus he quitted Passaick!--deserted her shore,

And the taverns that knew him shall know him no more!

One farmer Milhollan--I saw him come here,

Almost at the busiest time in the year;

His intent might be good, but I never could learn

Who coaxed him away from his crib and his barn:

Each morning he tippled three glasses of gin

With as many, at least, as three devils therein.

He quarrelled with Jack, and he wrangled with Tom,

'Till scarcely a negro but wished him at home;

He talked over much of the badness of times,

And read us a list of the governor's[D] crimes,

From which it was clearly predicted, and plain,

That his honour would hardly be chosen again.

He fought with Tim Tearcoat, and cudgelled with Ben,

And wrestled with Sampson--all quarrelsome men;--

I was sorry to see him thus wasting his force

On fellows who kicked with the heels of a horse.

Tho' strong in my arms, and of strength to contest

With the youths of my age in the wars of the fist,

I thought it was better to let them pursue

The quarrels they had, than to be one of their crew;

I saw it was madness to join in the fray,

So I left them to wrangle--each dog his own way.

He spoke thrice an hour of his crop that had failed,

And losses, he feared, that would get him enjailed;

He mentioned his poultry, and mentioned his pigs,

And railed at some Tories, converted to Whigs.--

(Excuse me retailing so much in my rhymes

Of the chatt of the day and the stuff of the times;

'Tis thus in the acts of a play, we perceive

All the parts are not cast to the wise, or the brave;

Not all is discoursed by the famed or the fair,

The demons of dullness have also their share;

Statira in play-house has not all the chance,

For hags are permitted to join in the dance:

Not Catos, or Platos engross every play,

For clowns and clod-hoppers must, too, have their day;

Not the nobles of nature say all that is said,

And monarchs are frequently left in the shade;

There must be some nonsense, to step in between,

There must be some fools to enliven the scene.)

Here was Doctor Sangrado, with potion and pill,

And his price was the same, to recover or kill.

He waddled about, and was vext to the soul

To see so much health in this horrible hole;

He seemed in a fret there was nobody sick,

And enquired of the landlord, "What ails your son Dick?"

"What ails him? (said Gubbins) why nothing at all!"

"By my soul (said the quack) he's as white as the wall;

I must give him a potion to keep down his gall!

There is bile on his stomach--I clearly see that;

This night he will vomit as black as my hat:

Here's a puke and a purge--twelve doses of bark;

Let him swallow them all--just an hour before dark!"

"O dear! (said the mother) the lad is quite well!"--

Said the Doctor, "No, no! he must take calomel:

It will put him to rights, as I hope to be saved!"

"Or rather (said Gubbins) you hope him engraved!"

So, the Doctor walked off in a pitiful plight,

And he lodged in a dog-house (they told me) that night.

Here were wives, and young widows, and matrons, and maids,

Who came for their health, or to stroll in the shades;

Here were Nellies, and Nancies, and Hetties, by dozens,

With their neighbours, and nephews, and nieces, and cousins--

All these had come hither to see the famed Fall,

And you, pretty Sally, the best of them all.

Here was Saunders, the jockey, who rode a white horse,

His last, it was said, and his only resource;

And the landlord was careful to put us in mind

That hell and destruction were riding behind:

He often had told him, "Do, Saunders, take care,

This swilling of gin is a cursed affair:

Indeed--and it puts a man off from his legs,

And brings us at last to be pelted with eggs--

The wit of your noddle should carry you through,--

Break your bottle of rum--give the devil his due!

Keep the reason about you that nature designed,

And you have the respect and regard of mankind!"

This steed of poor Saunders' was woefully lean,

And he looked, as we thought, like the flying machine;

And, in short, it appeared, by the looks of his hide,

That the stables he came from were poorly supplied:

A bundle of bones--and they whispered it round,

That he came from the hole where the Mammoth was found.[E]

They stuff'd him with hay, and they crammed him with oats

While Saunders was gaming and drinking with sots:

(For the de'il in the shape of a bottle of rum

Deceived him with visions of fortune to come;)

His landlady had on the horse a sheep's-eye,

So Saunders had plenty of whiskey and pye:

He had gin of the best, and he treated all round,

'Till care was dismissed and solicitude drowned,

And a reckoning was brought him of more than three pound.

As he had not a groat in his lank looking purse,

The landlord made seizure of saddle and horse:--

Scalpella, the hostess, cried, "Fly from this room,

Or I'll sweep you away with my hickory broom!"

Thus Saunders sneaked off in a sorrowful way,

And the Falls were his fall--to be beggar next day.--

The lady of ladies that governed the inn

Was a sharper indeed, and she kept such a din!--

Scalpella!--and may I remember the name!--

Could scratch like a tyger, or play a tight game.

A bludgeon she constantly held in her hand,

The sign of respect, and a sign of command:

She could scream like a vulture, or wink like an owl;

Not a dog in the street like Scalpella could howl.--

She was a Scalpella!--I am yet on her books,

But, oh! may I never encounter her looks!--

I owe her five pounds--I am that in her debt,

And my dues from the stars have not cleared it off yet.

If she knew where I am!--I should fare very ill;

Instead of some beer she would drench me with swill;

I should curse and reflect on the hour I was born.--

If she thought I had fixed on the pitch of Cape Horn,

She would find me!--Scalpella! set down what I owe

In the page of bad debts--due to Scalpy and Co!--

Her boarders she hated, and drove with a dash,

And nothing about them she liked but their cash;

Except they were Tories--ah, then she was kind--

And said to their honours, "You are men to my mind!

Sit down, my dear creatures--I hope you've not dined!"--

She talked of the king, and she talked of the queen,

And she talked of her floors--that were not very clean:--

She talked of the parson, and spoke of the 'squire,

She talked of her child that was singed in the fire--

The Tories, poor beings, were wishing to kiss her--oh--

If they had--all the stars would have fought against--Cicero.[F]

She talked, and she talked--now angry, now civil,

'Till the Tories themselves wished her gone to the devil.

How I tremble to think of her tongue and her stick,--

Tryphena, Tryphena! I've played the odd trick!

Now the soldier re-entered--the ladies were struck:

And "she that can win him will have the best luck!"

"La! father (said Kitty) observe the bold man!

I will peep at his phyz from behind my new fan!

What a lace on his beaver!--his buttons all shine!

In the cock of a hat there is something divine!

Since the days of Goliah, I'll venture to lay

There never was one that could stand in his way:

What a nose!--what an eye!--what a gallant address!

If he's not a hero, then call me Black Bess!

What a gaite--what a strut--how noble and free!

I'm ravished!--I'm ruined!---good father!--good me!"

"Dear Kitty, (he answered) regard not his lace,

The devil I see in the mould of his face:

Cockades have been famous for crazing your sex

Since Helen played truant, and left the poor Greeks;

And while her good husband was sleeping, and snored,

Eloped with Sir Knight from his bed, and his board.--

Three things are above me, yea, four, I maintain,

Have puzzled the cunningest heads to explain!

The way of a snake on a rock--very sly--

The way of an eagle, that travels the sky,

The way of a ship in the midst of the sea,

And the way of a soldier--with maidens like thee."

At length, a dark fortnight of weather came on,

And most of us thought it high time to be gone.--

The moon was eclipsed, and she looked like a fright;

Indeed--and it was a disconsolate night!

Our purses were empty--the landlord looked sour,

I gave them leg-bail in a terrible shower:--

Scalpella!--her face was as black as the moon,

Her voice, was the screech of a harpy, or loon,--

I quitted Passaick--that elegant place,

While a hurricane hindered them giving me chace.

[A] An English divine of considerable note, who died about a

century ago.--_Freneau's note._

[B] William Smyth, Esq. Before the Revolution a celebrated

lawyer in New York, author of the History of New Jersey,

and other works. Afterwards, taking part with the

British, he was made Chief Justice of Lower Canada--He

is since dead.--_Freneau's note._

[C] Passaick Village is at present called Patterson, noted for

its unfortunate manufacturing establishments.--_Freneau's

note._

[D] William Franklin, Esq., then Governor of New

Jersey.--_Freneau's note._

[E] These two lines were inserted since the first publication

of this Poem in Sept., 1775.--_Freneau's note._

[F] They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought

against Sisera. _Ancient History.--Freneau's note._

[59] Freneau mentions in this poem that it was printed in New York in

September, 1775. I can find no trace of it, either as a separate

publication or a contribution to a newspaper. As far as I can find, the

poem is unique in the edition of 1809.

Mr. William Nelson of Paterson, N. J., Secretary of the New Jersey

Historical Society, believes that the local allusions in the poem cannot

be verified. He writes:

"There were but two taverns at the Passaic Falls at that time; one kept

by Abraham Godwin, the other by James Leslie. Godwin and three of his

sons went in the American Army at the beginning of the Revolution, and

he died in the service. His widow survived him and carried on the tavern

for a number of years. She had an intolerant hatred of all Tories. In

1776 Leslie was keeping a tavern at the present Passaic, a few miles

below the Passaic Falls, and he continued there during the greater part

of the Revolution, I think.

"The character of the tavern-keeper's wife, 'Scalpella,' is either

purely fictitious or based on the character of some other person.

Moreover, I do not think Passaic Falls was ever a summer resort of the

character depicted in this poem. Travellers merely went there to see the

Falls, occasionally staying over night, but I cannot think it possible

that there could have been such a party assembled there at one time as

indicated in the poem. I do not think the two taverns together could

have accommodated so many people. The place was never called 'Passaic

Village,' as stated in the note, but was known as Totown Bridge until

1792, when Paterson was founded. Passaic Village was the name given

about forty years ago to the present city of Passaic.

"The only allusions in the poem which have some semblance of reality are

the references to 'Miss Kitty,' by whom is perhaps meant the daughter of

Lord Stirling; and 'Liberty Hall,' the residence of her uncle, Gov.

Livingstone, near Elizabethtown. There was no such person as 'Gubbins.'

I should think that the scene of the poem, if it has any foundation

whatever in fact, was more probably laid somewhere near Philadelphia."

* * * * *

PART II

THE FIRST POETIC PERIOD

1775--1781

THE FIRST POETIC PERIOD

1775-1781[A]

[A] In August, 1775, Freneau emerges from the obscurity which has

concealed him since the year of his graduation at Princeton,

and enters upon an era of marvelous productiveness. For four

months, poetry must have been his one thought, his one

occupation. It was during this period of his life that he

did his most spontaneous and original work.

A POLITICAL LITANY[60]

_Libera Nos, Domine._--Deliver us, O Lord, not only from British

dependence, but also

From a junto that labour with absolute power,

Whose schemes disappointed have made them look sour,

From the lords of the council, who fight against freedom,

Who still follow on where delusion[61] shall lead them.

From the group at St. James's, who slight our petitions,

And fools that are waiting for further submissions--

From a nation whose manners are rough and severe,

From scoundrels and rascals,--do keep us all clear.[62]

From pirates sent out by command of the king

To murder and plunder, but never to swing.

From Wallace and Greaves, and Vipers and Roses,[A]

Whom, if heaven pleases, we'll give bloody noses.

From the valiant Dunmore, with his crew of banditti,

Who plunder Virginians at Williamsburg city,[63]

From hot-headed Montague, mighty to swear,

The little fat man with his pretty white hair.[64]

From bishops in Britain, who butchers are grown,

From slaves that would die for a smile from the throne,

From assemblies that vote against Congress proceedings,

(Who now see the fruit of their stupid misleadings.)

From Tryon[65] the mighty, who flies from our city,

And swelled with importance disdains the committee:

(But since he is pleased to proclaim us his foes,

What the devil care we where the devil he goes.)

From the caitiff,[66] lord North, who would bind us in chains,

From a royal king Log, with his tooth-full of brains,

Who dreams, and is certain (when taking a nap)

He has conquered our lands, as they lay on his map.[67]

From a kingdom that bullies, and hectors, and swears,

We send up to heaven our wishes and prayers

That we, disunited, may freemen be still,

And Britain go on--to be damned if she will.

[A] Captains and ships in the British navy, then employed on the

American coast.--_Freneau's note._ During the summer of 1775,

Capt. Wallace and his vessel, the _Rose_, kept the American

coast cities in a state of constant terror. The colonial

newspapers show how widespread and real was this terror.

[60] The earliest trace I can find of this poem is in the 1786 edition

of Freneau, where it is dated "New York, Sept. 26, 1775." In this

edition, and in that of 1795, it had the title "Libera Nos, Domine." In

the edition of 1809, which I have followed, it is dated "_New-York,

June, 1775._" The earlier date is probably the date of publication.

[61] "The devil."--_Ed. 1786._

[62] "Whom gold can corrupt."--_Ed. 1786._

[63] Lord Dunmore was the last Royal Governor of Virginia. In April,

1775, he had removed the public stores from Williamsburg, and with the

aid of the navy and what forces he could raise, was waging open war on

the colonies.

[64] George Montagu, admiral of the British fleet during the early part

of the war, did much to exasperate the colonists. "He stopped and

searched vessels without adequate pretext, and fired at the market boats

as they entered Newport harbor. He treated the farmers on the islands

much as the Saracens in the Middle Ages treated the coast population of

Italy." He was mild in appearance, but testy and arbitrary to an

extraordinary degree. He covered the British retreat from Boston, aided

Lord Dunmore to escape from Virginia, and took part in the capture of

New York City.

[65] William Tryon, the last Royal Governor of New York, informed of a

resolution of the Continental Congress: "That it be recommended to the

several provincial assemblies, in conventions and councils or committees

of safety, to arrest and secure every person in their respective

colonies whose going at large may, in their opinion, endanger the safety

of the colony or the liberties of America," discerning the signs of the

times, took refuge on board the Halifax packet in the harbour, and left

the city in the middle of October, 1775.--_Duyckinck._

[66] Scoundrel.--_Ed. 1786._

[67]

"From a dunce of a king who was born without brains,

The utmost extent of whose sense is to see

That reigning and making of buttons agree."--_Ed. 1786._

AMERICAN LIBERTY, A POEM[68]

ARGUMENT

Present Situation of Affairs in North-America.--Address to the

Deity.--Unhappy Situation of New-England, in particular.--The first

Emigrations of the Colonists from Europe.--Cruelties of the Indian

Natives.--All our Hopes of future Safety depend secondarily on our

present Resolution and Activity.--Impossible for British Soldiers

to join heartily for the purpose of enslaving us.--Present happy

Unanimity among the Colonies.--The Baseness of pensioned Writers

against their native Country.--General Gage's late

Proclamation.--The Odium consequent upon his Undertaking his

present Office.--Character of a weak Monarch.--Popery established

in Canada.--General Washington.--The Honourable Continental

Congress.--Hancock.--Adams.--Invitation to Foreigners to retire

hither from their respective Slavish Regions.--Bravery of the

New-England Forces in the late Engagements.--The determined

Resolution of the Colonies to be free.--The future Happiness of

America if she surmounts the present Difficulties.

Once more Bellona, forc'd upon the stage,

Inspires new fury, and awakes her rage,

From North to South her thun'dring trumpet spreads

Tumults, and war and death, and daring deeds.

What breast but kindles at the martial sound?

What heart but bleeds to feel its country's wound?

For thee, blest freedom, to protect thy sway,

We rush undaunted to the bloody fray;

For thee, each province arms its vig'rous host,

Content to die, e'er freedom shall be lost.

Kind watchful power, on whose supreme command

The fate of monarchs, empires, worlds depend,

Grant, in a cause thy wisdom must approve,

Undaunted valour kindled from above,

Let not our souls descend to dastard fear,

Be valour, prudence both united here,

Now as of old thy mighty arm display;

Relieve the opprest, and saving power convey.

'Tis done, and see th' omnipotent befriends,

The sword of Gideon, and of God descends.

Ah, see with grief fair Massachusetts' plains,

The seat of war, and death's terrific scenes;

Where darling peace with smiling aspect stood,

Lo! the grim soldier stalks in quest of blood:

What madness, heaven, has made Britannia frown?

Who plans our schemes to pull Columbia[A] down?

See Boston groan beneath the strong blockade,

Her freedom vanish'd, and destroy'd her trade;

Injur'd, opprest, no tyrant could exceed

The cruel vengeance of so base a deed.

New Albion's[B] sons whom honest freedom moves,

(My heart admires them, and my verse approves),

Tir'd of oppression in a Stuart's reign,

A Popish faction, ministerial train;

Bravely resolv'd to leave their native shore

And some new world, they knew not where, explore,

Far in the West, beyond where Poets said,

The Sun retir'd, and Cynthia went to bed.

Few then had seen the scarce discover'd Bourne,

From whence like death yet fewer did return:

Dire truths from thence the wand'ring sailor brought,

Enlarg'd by terror, and the power of thought,

With all the forms that pict'ring fancy gives,

With all the dread that in idea lives;

Fierce Cannibals that sought the blood of man,

Vast cruel tribes that through the desart ran,

Giants whose height transcends the tow'ring oak,

Brutes with whose screams the trembling forest shook,--

All these and more they held no cause of fear,

Since naught but slavery, dreadful could appear.

Ah, see the day, distressful to the view,

Wives, husbands, fathers, bid a long adieu.

Dear native land, how heav'd the heavy sigh,

When thy last mountains vanish'd on the eye;

Then their frail barks, just enter'd on the sea,

Pursu'd the long, uncomfortable way:

But pitying heav'n the just design surveys,

Sends prosp'rous gales, and wafts them o'er the seas.

Behold the shore; no rising cities there,

To hail them welcome from the sea appear,

In the wild woods the exil'd host were spread,

The heavens their covering, and the earth their bed:

What expectations but a life of woe?

Unnumber'd myriads of the savage foe,

Whose brutal fury rais'd, at once might sweep

The adventurers all to death's destructive sleep;

Yet 'midst this scene of horror and despair,

Stout industry began his office here,

Made forests bend beneath his sturdy stroke,

Made oxen groan beneath the sweaty yoke,

Till half the desart smil'd and look'd as gay

As northern gardens in the bloom of May.

But ah, review the sorrows interwove,

How the fierce native with the stranger strove;--

So heaven's bright lamp, the all-reviving sun,

Just as his flaming journey is begun,

Mists, fogs and vapours, sprung from damps of night,

Mount up and strive to dim the approach of light;

But he in triumph darts his piercing ray,

Scatters their forces and pursues his way.

Oft when the husband did his labour leave

To meet his little family at eve,

Stretch'd in their blood he saw each well known face,

His dear companion and his youthful race;

Perhaps the scalp with barbarous fury torn,

The visage mangled, and the babe unborn

Ripp'd from its dark abode, to view the sun,

Ere nature finish'd half she had begun.

And should we now when spread thro' ev'ry shore,

Submit to that our fathers shunn'd before?

Should we, just heaven, our blood and labour spent,

Be slaves and minions to a parliament?

Perish the thought, nor may one wretch remain,

Who dares not fight and in our cause be slain;

The cause of freedom daunts the hireling foe,

And gives each Sampson's strength toward the blow,

And each, like him whom fear nor force confines,

Destroys a thousand modern Philistines.

Who fights to take our liberty away,

Dead-hearted fights and falls an easy prey;

The cause, the cause, most cruel to enslave,

Disheartens thousands, and unmans the brave:

Who could have thought that Britons bore a heart,

Or British troops to act so base a part?

Britons of old renown'd, can they descend

T' enslave their brethren in a foreign land?

What oath, what oath, inform us if you can,

Binds them to act below the worth of man?

Can they whom half the world admires, can they

Be advocates for vile despotic sway?

Shall they, to every shore and clime renown'd,

Enforce those acts that tyranny did found?

'Yet sure if this be their resolv'd design,

'Conquer they shall where'er the sun doth shine;

'No expedition prov'd unhappy yet,

'Can we Havanna's bloody siege forget,[69]

'Where British cannon the strong fortress tore,

'And wing'd whole legions to its infernal shore.

'Or does the voice of fame so soon forego

'Gibraltar's action, and the vanquish'd foe,

'Where art and nature both at once combin'd

'To baffle all our hardy troops design'd?--

'Yet there Britannia's arms successful sped,

'While haughty Spaniards trembled, felt and fled.'

So say the pensioned fools of slavery,

So say our traitors, but so say not I--

(Tories or traitors, call them what you choose,

Tories are rogues, and traitors imps broke loose).

But know, ye few, the scandal of our land,

On whom returns the blood that we expend,

Those troops whose fears are told on every shore,

Here lose their spirit and are brave no more;

When armies fight to gain some cruel cause,

Establish tyrants or destructive laws,

True courage scorns to inspire the hateful crew,

Recall past fame, or spur them on to new;

Dark boding thoughts the heavy soul possess,

And ancient valour turns to cowardice.

Dark was the prospect, gloomy was the scene,

When traitors join'd to break our union chain:

But soon, by heaven inspir'd, arose the cry,

Freedom or death, unite, unite or die.

Now far and wide a manly spirit reigns,

From Canada to Georgia's sun burnt plains;

Few now insult with falsehood's shameless pen.

Monsters from Tophet, driv'n in shapes of men:

Few pension'd scribblers left the daring head,

Some have turn'd lunatics and some have fled--

Some, late converted, scarce their pensions hold.

And from mere force disdain the charms of gold.

What deep offence has fir'd a monarch's rage,

What moonstruck madness seized the brain of Gage?

Laughs not the soul, when an imprison'd few

Affect to pardon those they can't subdue?

Tho' twice repuls'd and hemm'd up to their stations,

Yet issue pardons, oaths, and proclamations,

As if at sea some desperate madman crew

Should threat the tempest with what they could do,

And like proud Xerxes lash the angry waves,

At the same instant that they find their graves.

But not the pomps and favours of a crown,

A nation's anger, or a statesman's frown,

Could draw the virtuous man from virtue's way,

To chain by force what treach'ry can't betray.

Virtue disdains to own tyrannic laws,

Takes part with freedom, and assumes its cause;

No part had she, her fiercest forces own,

To bring so far this heavy vengeance on;

She stood with Romans while their hearts were true,

And so she shall, Americans, with you.

Should heaven in wrath decree some nation's fall,

Whose crimes from thence for sacred vengeance call,

A monarch first of vulgar soul should rise,

A sure fore-runner of its obsequies,

Whose heart should glow with not one gen'rous thought,

Born to oppress, to propagate, and rot.

Whose lengthen'd reign no deed of worth should grace,

None trusted but a servile pensioned race;

Too dull to know what saving course to take,

That heaven in time its purpose might forsake,

Too obstinately will'd to bow his ear

To groaning thousands or petitions hear,

Dare break all oaths that bind the just like fate,

Oaths, that th' Arch-Devil would blush to violate,

And, foe to truth, both oaths and honour sell,

To establish principles, the growth of hell,--

Still those who aim to be his truest friends,

Traitors, insidious rebels, madmen, fiends,

Hoodwink'd and blind, deceived by secret foes,

Whose fathers once with exil'd tyrants rose,

Bless'd with as little sense as God e'er gave,

Slave to wrong schemes, dupe to a noble knave.

So odd a monarch heaven in wrath would plan,

And such would be the fury of a man.

See far and wide o'er long Canadia's plains,

Old popish fraud and superstition reigns;

The scarlet whore long hath heaven withstood,

Who cries for murder and who thirsts for blood,

Establish'd there, marks down each destined name,

And plants the stake impatient for the flame,

With sanguinary soul her trade begins,

To doom her foes to hell or pardon sins;

Her crafty priests their impious rites maintain,

And crucify their Saviour once again;

Defend his rights, who, scatt'ring lies abroad,

With shameless front usurps the seat of God:

Those are, we fear, who his vile cause assert,

But half reform'd and papists at the heart.

Bear me, some power, as far as the winds can blow,

As ships can travel, or as waves can flow,

To some lone island beyond the southern pole,

Or lands round which pacific waters roll,

There should oblivion stop the heaving sigh,

There should I live at least with liberty.

But honour checks my speed and bids me stay,

To try the fortune of the well fought day.

Resentment for my country's fate I bear,

And mix with thousands for the willing war;

See Washington New Albion's freedom owns,

And moves to war with half Virginia's sons,

Bold in the fight, whose actions might have aw'd

A Roman Hero, or a Grecian God.

He, he, as first his gallant troops shall lead,

Undaunted man, a second Diomede;

As when he fought at wild Ohio's flood,

When savage thousands issu'd from the wood,

When Braddock's fall disgrac'd the mighty day,

And Death himself stood weeping o'er his prey,

When doubting vict'ry chang'd from side to side,

And Indian sod with Indian blood was dy'd,

When the last charge repuls'd th' invenom'd foe,

And lightnings lit them to the shades below.

See where from various distant climes unites

A generous council to protect our rights,

Fix'd on a base too steadfast to be mov'd,

Loving their country, by their country lov'd,

Great guardians of our freedom, we pursue

Each patriot measure as inspir'd by you,

Columbia, nor shall fame deny it owes

Past safety to the counsel you propose;

And if they do not keep Columbia free,

What will alas! become of Liberty?

Great souls grow bolder in their country's cause,

Detest enslavers, and despise their laws.

O Congress fam'd, accept this humble lay,

The little tribute that the muse can pay;

On you depends Columbia's future fate,

A free asylum or a wretched state.

Fall'n on disastrous times we push our plea,

Heard or not heard, and struggle to be free.

Born to contend, our lives we place at stake,

And grow immortal by the stand we make.

O you, who, far from liberty detain'd,

Wear out existence in some slavish land,

Fly thence from tyrants, and their flatt'ring throng,

And bring the fiery freeborn soul along.

Neptune for you shall smooth the hoary deep,

And awe the wild tumultuous waves to sleep;

Here vernal woods, and flow'ry meadows blow,

Luxuriant harvests in rich plenty grow,

Commerce extends as far as waves can roll,

And freedom, God-like freedom, crowns the whole.

And you, brave men, who scorn the dread of death,

Resolv'd to conquer to the latest breath,

Soldiers in act, and heroes in renown,

Warm in the cause of Boston's hapless town,

Still guard each pass; like ancient Romans, you

At once are soldiers, and are farmers too;

Still arm impatient for the vengeful blow,

And rush intrepid on the yielding foe;

As when of late midst clouds of fire and smoke,

Whole squadrons fell, or to the center shook,

And even the bravest to your arm gave way,

And death, exulting, ey'd the unhappy fray.

Behold, your Warren bleeds, who both inspir'd

To noble deeds, and by his actions fir'd;

What pity, heaven!--but you who yet remain

Affect his spirit as you lov'd the man:

Once more, and yet once more for freedom strive,

To be a slave what wretch would dare to live?

We too to the last drop our blood will drain,

And not till then shall hated slavery reign,

When every effort, every hope is o'er,

And lost Columbia swells our breasts no more.

O if that day, which heaven avert, must come,

And fathers, husbands, children, meet their doom,

Let one brave onset yet that doom precede,

To shew the world America can bleed,

One thund'ring raise the midnight cry,

And one last flame send Boston to the sky.

But cease, foreboding Muse, not strive to see

Dark times deriv'd by fatal destiny;

If ever heaven befriended the distrest,

If ever valour succour'd those opprest,

Let America rejoice, thy standard rear,

Let the loud trumpet animate to war:

Thy guardian Genius, haste thee on thy way,

To strike whole hosts with terror and dismay.

Happy some land, which all for freedom gave,

Happier the men whom their own virtues save;

Thrice happy we who long attacks have stood,

And swam to Liberty thro' seas of blood;

The time shall come when strangers rule no more,

Nor cruel mandates vex from Britain's shore;

When Commerce shall extend her short'ned wing,

And her free freights from every climate bring;

When mighty towns shall flourish free and great,

Vast their dominion, opulent their state;

When one vast cultivated region teems,

From ocean's edge to Mississippi's streams;

While each enjoys his vineyard's peaceful shade,

And even the meanest has no cause to dread;

Such is the life our foes with envy see,

Such is the godlike glory to be free.

[A] Columbia, America sometimes so called from Columbus, the

first discoverer.--_Freneau's note._

[B] New Albion, properly New England, but is often applied to

all British America.--_Freneau's note._

[68] This was published by Anderson in 1775. In Holt's _New York

Journal_ of July 6, it is advertised as just published. The

advertisement observes that "This poem is humbly addressed to all true

lovers of this once flourishing country, whether they shine as soldiers

or statesmen. In it Ciceronian eloquence and patriotic fire are happily

blended." The poet never reprinted it. The only copy of the poem extant,

as far as I can discover, is that in the Library of Congress at

Washington.

[69] Of the siege of Havana, in July, 1762, Bancroft writes: "This siege

was conducted in midsummer, against a city which lies just within the

tropic. The country around the Moro Castle is rocky. To bind and carry

the fascines was of itself a work of incredible labor;... sufficient

earth to hold the fascines firm was gathered with difficulty from the

crevices of the rocks. Once, after a drought of fourteen days, the grand

battery took fire from the flames, and crackling and spreading where

water could not follow it, nor earth stifle it, was wholly consumed. The

climate spoiled a great part of the provisions. Wanting good water, many

died in agonies of thirst. More fell victims of a putrid fever....

Hundreds of carcasses floated on the ocean. And yet such was the

enthusiasm of the English, such the resolute zeal of the sailors and

soldiers, such the unity of action between the fleet and army, that the

vertical sun of June and July, the heavy rains of August, raging fever,

and strong and well defended fortresses, all the obstacles of nature and

art were surmounted, and the most decisive victory of the war was

gained."

GENERAL GAGE'S SOLILOQUY[70]

_Scene._--Boston, besieged by the Men of Massachusetts

Written and published in New-York, 1775

Why, let the stricken deer go weep,

The hart, unwounded, play,

For some must write, while some must speak;

So runs the world away!

_--Shakespeare._

Destruction waits my call!--some demon say

Why does destruction linger on her way!

Charlestown is burnt, and Warren is deceased--

Heavens! shall we never be from war released?

Ten years the Greeks besieged the walls of Troy,

But when did Grecians their own towns destroy?

Yes, that's the point!--Let those who will, say, No;

If George and North decree--it must be so.

Doubts, black as night, disturb my loved repose--

Men that were once my friends have turned my foes--

What if we conquer this rebellious town,

Suppose we burn it, storm it, tear it down--

This land's like Hydra, cut off but one head,

And ten shall rise, and dare you in its stead.

If to subdue a league or two of coast

Requires a navy, and so large a host,

How shall a length of twice seven hundred miles

Be brought to bend to two European Isles?--

And that, when all their utmost strength unite,

When twelve[A] dominions swear to arm and fight,

When the same spirit darts from every eye,

One fixed resolve to gain their point or die.

As for myself--true--I was born to fight

As George commands, let him be wrong or right,

While from his hand I squeeze the golden prize,[71]

I'll ask no questions, and he'll tell no lies;--

But did I swear, I ask my heart again,

In their base projects monarchs to maintain?--[72]

Yes--when Rebellion her artillery brings

And aims her arrows at the best of kings,

I stand a champion in my monarch's cause--

The men are rebels that resist his laws.[73]

A viceroy I, like modern monarchs, stay

Safe in the town--let others guide the fray:

A life like mine is of no common worth,

'Twere wrong, by heaven, that I should sally forth![74]

A random bullet from a rifle sent

Might pierce my heart, and ruin North's intent:

Let others combat in the dusty field,

Let petty captains scorn to live or yield,

I'll send my ships to neighbouring isles, where stray[75]

Unnumb'red herds, and steal those herds away;

I'll strike the women in this town with awe,

And make them tremble at my martial law.

Should gracious heaven befriend our troops and fleet,

And throw this vast dominion at my feet,

How would Britannia echo with my fame!

What endless honours would await my name!

In every province should the traveller see

Recording marble, raised to honour me.--[76]

Hard by the lakes, my sovereign lord would grant

A rural empire to supply my want,

A manor would but poorly serve my turn,

Less than an empire from my soul I scorn![77]

An ample kingdom round Ontario's lake,

By heaven! should be the least reward I'd take.

There might I reign, unrivalled and alone,

An ocean and an empire of my own!--

What though the scribblers and the wits might say,

He built his pile on vanquished Liberty--

Let others meanly dread the slanderous tongue,

While I obey my king, can I do wrong?

Then, to accomplish all my soul's desire,

Let red-hot bullets set their towns on fire;

May heaven, if so the righteous judgment pass,[78]

Change earth to steel, the sky to solid brass,

Let hosts combined, from Europe centering here,[79]

Strike this base offspring with alarm and fear;

Let heaven's broad concave to the center ring,

And blackest night expand her sable wing,

The infernal powers in dusky combat join,

Wing the swift ball, or spring the deadly mine;

(Since 'tis most true, tho' some may think it odd,

The foes of England are the foes of God):

Let bombs, like comets, kindle all the air,

Let cruel famine prompt the orphan's prayer,

And every ill that war or want can bring

Be shower'd on subjects that renounce their king.

What is their plea?--our sovereign only meant

This people should be taxed without consent,

Ten years the court with secret cunning tried

To gain this point--the event their hopes belied:

How should they else than sometimes miss the mark

Who sleep at helm, yet think to steer the barque?

North, take advice; thy lucky genius show,

Dispatch Sir Jeffery[B] to the states below.

That gloomy prince, whom mortals Satan call,[80]

Must help us quickly, if he help at all--

You strive in vain by force of bribes to tie;

They see through all your schemes with half an eye;

If open force with secret bribes I join,

The contest sickens--and the day is mine.

But hark the trumpet's clangor--hark--ah me!

What means this march of Washington and Lee?

When men like these such distant marches make,

Fate whispers something--that we can't mistake;[81]

When men like these defy my martial rule,

Good heaven! it is no time to play the fool--

Perhaps, they for their country's freedom rise;

North has, perhaps, deceived me with his lies.--

If George at last a tyrant should be found,

A cruel tyrant, by no sanctions bound,

And I, myself, in an unrighteous cause,

Be sent to execute the worst of laws,

How will those dead whom I conjured to fight--

Who sunk in arms to everlasting night,

Whose blood the conquering foe conspired to spill

At Lexington and Bunker's fatal hill,

Whose mangled corpses scanty graves embrace--

Rise from those graves, and curse me to my face!--

Alas! that e'er ambition bade me roam,

Or thirst of power, forsake my native home--

What shall I do?--there, crowd the hostile bands;

Here, waits a navy to receive commands;--

I speak the language of my heart--shall I

Steal off by night, and o'er the ocean fly,

Like a lost man to unknown regions stray,

And to oblivion leave this stormy day?--[82]

Or shall I to Britannia's shores again,

And big with lies, conceal my thousands slain?--

Yes--to some distant clime[83] my course I steer,

To any country rather than be here,

To worlds where reason scarce exerts her law,[84]

A branch-built cottage, and a bed of straw.--

Even Scotland's coast seems charming in my sight,

And frozen Zembla yields a strange delight.--

But such vexations in my bosom burn,

That to these shores I never will return,

'Till fruits and flowers on Greenland's coast be known,

And frosts are thawed in climates once their own.

Ye souls of fire, who burn for chief command,

Come! take my place in this disastrous land;

To wars like these I bid a long good-night--

Let North and George themselves such battles fight.

[A] Georgia had not at this time acceded to the Union of

the Thirteen States.--_Freneau's note._

[B] Sir Jeffery Amherst, who about this time refused to act

against the Colonial cause.--_Freneau's note._

[70] From the edition of 1809. The original edition, which consisted of

114 lines, was first published in New York, by H. Gaine, in August,

1775. The poem was thus written and published in the early days of the

siege.

General Gage, the last royal governor of Massachusetts, arrived in

Boston May, 1774, and remained until October, 1775, when he was

succeeded by Major General Howe. The siege of Boston began with the

arrival of Washington before the city, early in July, 1775, and

continued until Howe was forced to evacuate the city, the following

March. Gage's incompetency was admitted even by his own countrymen. He

was narrow-minded, and prejudiced, and unable to estimate justly the

forces that were against him. His only argument was force and

dictatorial interference.

[71] This and the following line not in edition of 1775.

[72] To fight for Britons against Englishmen.--_Ed. 1775._

In such damn'd service to harass my brain.--_Ed. 1786._

[73] Four lines of the original edition omitted:

"North take advice, thy lucky genius show,

Dismiss a legate to the world below,

Sir Belzebub, for aid like thine we sue,

Send up the damned and let them help me too."

[74]

A life like mine is of such mighty worth,

I'll wrong my king if I should sally forth.

[75] This and the following line is not in edition of 1775.

[76] Some trophy of my tedious victory.--_Ed. 1775._

[77] The Lordship of a manor I would scorn.--_Ed. 1775._

[78] In place of the next eight lines, the edition of 1775 has the

following:

"Let heaven's broad concave to the center ring,

And Imps from hell their swifter vengeance wing;

May heaven, if so the righteous judgment pass,

Change earth to steel, the sky to solid brass."

[79] Let hell-cats darting from some blackguard sphere.--_Ed. 1786._

[80] This and the four following lines not found in the edition of 1775.

[81] It shows they think their freedom lies at stake.--_Ed. 1775._

[82] In the original edition these two lines read as follows:

"Like Captain Cook to Southern islands stray,

And take new kings and kingdoms in my way."

[83] "Foreign clime."--_Ed. 1775._ "Negro clime."--_Ed. 1786._

[84] This line, and the nine following, are not found in the edition

of 1775.

THE MIDNIGHT CONSULTATIONS;[85]

OR, A TRIP TO BOSTON

First published in 1775

The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 1 (of 3) · 第 5 / 7 章

And when a train of rolling years are past,