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THE COLUMBIAN MUSE.
A SELECTION OF AMERICAN POETRY, FROM VARIOUS AUTHORS OF ESTABLISHED REPUTATION.
NEW-YORK: PRINTED BY J. CAREY, NO. 91, BROAD-STREET.
1794.
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CONTENTS.
- The Conspiracy of Kings, Barlow Page 1
- The Prospect of Peace, ibid 10
- Philosophic Solitude, Livingstone 16
- Single Life and Matrimony contrasted, Anon. 33
- An Oration, Hopkinson 34
- The Federal Convention, Anon. 42
- Address to the Continental Convention, Dwight 43
- Columbia, Ibid 48
- The Seasons Moralized, ibid 50
- Elegy on the Times, Trumbull, 51
- Elegy on the Death of Mr. B. St. John, ibid 61
- Ambition, an Elegy, ibid, 65
- A Song, Dwight 68
- The Critics, a Fable. ibid 69
- Epistle to Colonel Humphreys, ibid 73
- Sketches of American History, Freneau 80
- Description of the first American Congress, Barlow 89
- American Revolution, ibid 91
- American Sages, ibid 105
- American Painters, ibid 107
- American Poets, ibid 108
- Eulogium on Rum, Smith 109
- Elegy on the burning of Fairfield, Humphreys 112
- Elegy on Lieutenant De Hart, ibid 114
- Mount Vernon, ibid 116
- Ode to Laura, ibid 119
- The Genius of America, ibid 120
- The Country Meeting, James 121
- Lines written at sea in a heavy Gale, Freneau 125
- The American Warrior, Anon. 126
- The Doctrine of Consequences, ibid 128
- Song. ibid 132
- Stanzas on the President's Birth Day, ibid 133
- The Fire Fly, ibid 134
- [Page] The Thunder Storm, Anon. 135
- An Epistle to Dr. Dwight, Humphreys, 136
- A song. From the French, ibid 140
- Epitaph, Hopkins, 142
- The Hypocrite's Hope, ibid 144
- An intended Inscription, Allen 146
- Depredations of the Algerines, &c. Humphreys 147
- A Winter Piece, Lathrop 157
- An Indian Eclogue, Smith 160
- Future State of the Western Territory, Humphreys 162
- American Winter ibid 165
- On Love and the American Fair, ibid 167
- Benevolence, Dawes 169
- The Old Soldier, Featham 171
- The War Horse, Ladd 172
- On the migration to America, &c. Freneau 173
- A Pastoral Song, Bradford 175
- Address to the Robin Red Breast, Bayard 177
- Progress of Science, Evans 181
- Description of Jehovah, Ladd 183
- Nature and Art, Smyth 183
- Cololoo. An Indian Tale, Dunlap 187
- An Elegy, Alsop, 190
- The Deity and his Dispensations, Dwight 194
- Creation, ibid 196
- New-England Described, ibid 199
- Picture of a New-England Village, ibid 204
- The House of Sloth, ibid 205
- A Female Worthy, ibid 207
- The miseries of War, ibid 209
- Ella.—A Norwegian Tale, Dunlap 215
- The Country School, Anon. 219
- Invocation to Hope, ibid 221
- Prayer to Patience, ibid 222
- Character of St. Tamany, Prichard 223
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THE COLUMBIAN MUSE.
THE CONSPIRACY OF KINGS.
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1792.
ETERNAL Truth, thy trump undaunted lend,
People and priests and courts and kings, attend;
While, borne on western gales (from that far shore
Where justice reigns, and tyrants tread no more)
Th' unwon
[...]ed voice, that no dissuasion awes,
That fears no frown, and seeks no blind applause,
Shall tell the bliss that Freedom sheds abroad,
The rights of nature and the gift of God.
Think not, ye knaves, whom meanness stiles the Great,
Drones of the Church, and harpies of the State,—
Ye, whose curst sires, for blood and plunder fam'd,
Sultans or kings or czars or emp'rots nam'd,
Taught the deluded world their claims to own,
And raise the crested reptiles to a throne,—
[Page 2] Ye who pretend to your dark best was given
The lamp of life, the mystic keys of heaven:
Whose impious arts, with magic spells, began
When shades of ign'rance veil'd the race of man;
Who change, from age to age, the fly deceit,
As Science beams, and Virtue learns the cheat;
Tyrants of double powers, the soul that blind,
To rob, to scourge, and brutalize mankind,—
Think not I come to croak, with omen'd yell,
The dire damnations of your future hell;
To bend a bigot or reform a knave,
By op'ning all the scenes beyond the grave.
I know your crested souls: while one defies,
In sceptic scorn, the vengeance of the skies,
The other boasts,—"I ken thee, Power divine,
"But fear thee not; th' avenging bolt is mine."
No! 'tis the present world that prompts the song;
The world we see; the world that feels the wrong,
The world of men, whose arguments ye know,
Of men, long curb'd to servitude and woe;
Men, rous'd from sloth, by indignation slung,
Their strong hands loos'd, and found their fearless tongue;
Whose voice of fire, whose deep-descending steel,
Shall speak to souls, and teach dull nerves
[...]o feel.
Think not—(al
[...]no! the weak delusion shun;
Burke leads you wrong, the world is not his own)
Indulge not once the thought, the vapory dream,
The fool's repast, the madman's thread-bare theme,
That nations, rising in the light of truth,
Strong with new life and pure regen'rate youth,
Will shrink from tolls so splendidly begun,
Their bliss abandon and their glory shun;
Betray the trust by Heaven's own hand consign'd,
The great concentred stake, the interest of mankind.
Ye speak of kings combin'd, some league that draws
Europe's whole force, to save your sinking cause;
Of fancy'd hosts by myriads that advance,
To crush the untry'd pow'r of new-
[...]orn France.
[Page 3] Misguided men! these idle tales despise;
Let one bright ray of reason strike your eyes;
Show me your kings, the sceptred horde parade,—
See their pomp vanish! see your visions fade!
Indignant man resumes the shaft he gave,
Disarms the tyrant, and unbinds the slave,
Displays the unclad skeletons of kings,
*
Spectres of power, and serpents without stings.
And shall mankind, shall France, whose
[...] might
Rent the dark veil, and dragg'd them forth to light,
Heed now their threats in dying anguish tost?
And She who fell'd the monster, fear the ghost?
Bid young Alcides, in his grasp who takes,
And gripes with naked hand the twisting snakes,
Their force exhausted, bid him prostrate fall,
And dread their shadows trembling on the wall.
But grant to kings and courts their ancient play,
Recal their splendour and revive their sway;
Can all your cant and all your cries persuade
One power to join you, in your wild crusade?
In vain ye search to earth's remotest end;
No court can aid you, and no king defend.
Not the mad knave that S—sceptre stole,
Nor she, whose thunder shakes the northern pole;
For Frederick's widow'd sword, that scorns to tell
On whose weak brow his crown reluctant fell:
Not the tri-sceptred Prince, of Austrian mould,
The ape of wisdom and the slave of gold,
Theresa's son, who, with a feeble grace,
Just mimics all the vices of his race;
For him no charm can foreign strife afford,
Too mean to spend his wealth, too wise to trust his sword.
Peep o'er the Pyrenees,—but you'll disdain
To break the dream that sooths the monk of Spain.
He counts his beads, and spends his holy zeal
To raise once more th' inquisitorial wheel,
[Page 4] Prepares the faggot and the flame renews,
To roast the French, as once the Moors and Jews,
While able hands the busy task divide,
His Queen to dandle, and his State to guide.
Ye ask g
[...]t Pitt to join your desp'rate work,—
See how his annual aid confounds the Turk!
Like a war-elephant his bulk he shows,
And treads down friends, when frighten'd by his foes.
Where then, forsaken villains, will ye turn?
Of France the outcast and of earth the scorn;
What new-made charm can dissipate your scars?
Can Burke's mad foam, or Calonne's house of Peers?
*
Can Artois' sword, that e
[...]st near Calpe's wall,
Where Crillion fought and Elliot was to fall,
Burn'd with the fire of fame, but harmless burn'd,
For sheath'd the sword remain'd, and in its sheath return'd?
†
[Page 5] Oh Burke, degen'rate slave! with grief and shame,
The muse indignant must repeat thy name.
Strange man, declare,—since, at creation's birth,
From crumbling chaos sprang this heav'n and earth,
Since wrecks and outcast relics still remain,
Whirl'd ceaseless round confusion's dreary reign,
Declare, from all these fragments, whence you stole
That genius wild, that monstrous mass of soul;
Where spreads the widest waste of all extremes,
Fell darkness frowns, and heav'n's own splendour beams;
Truth, Error, Falsehood, Rhetoric's raging tide,
And Pomp and Meanness, Prejudice and Pride,
Strain to an endless clang thy voice of fire,
Thy thoughts bewilder and thy audience tire.
Like Phoebus' son, we see thee wing thy way,
Snatch the loose reins and mount the ear of day;
To earth now plunging plough thy wasting course,
The great sublime of weakness and of force.
But while the world's keen eye, with gen'rous glance,
Thy faults could pardon and thy worth enhance,
When foes were hush'd, when justice dar'd commend,
And e'en fond Freedom claim'd thee as a friend,
Why in a gulph of baseness sink forlorn,
And change pure praise for infamy and scorn?
And didst thou hope, by thy infuriate quill,
To rouse mankind the blood of realms to spill?
[Page 6] Then to restore, on death—devoted plains,
Their scourge to tyrants, and to man his chains?
To swell their souls with thy own bigot rage,
And blot the glories of so bright an age?
First stretch thy arm, and, with less impious might,
[...]ipe out the stars, and quench the solar light:
"
For heav'n and earth,"the voice of God ordains,
"
Shall pass and perish, but my word remains."
The eternal Word, which gave, in spite of thee,
Reason to man, that bids the man be free.
Thou could'st not hope: 'twas Heav'n's returning grace,
In kind compassion to our injur'd race,
Which stript that soul, ere it should flee from hence,
Of the last garb of decency or sense,
Left thee its own foul horrors to display,
In all the blackness of its native day,
To sink at last, from earth's glad surface hurl'd,
The sordid sov'reign of the letter'd world.
In some sad hour, ere death's dim terrors spread,
Ere seas of dark oblivion whelm thy head,
Reflect, lost man—If those, thy kindred knaves,
O'er the broad Rhine, whose flag rebellious waves,
Once draw the sword; its burning point shall bring
To thy quick nerves a never-ending sting:
The blood they shed thy weight of woe shall swell,
And their grim ghosts for ever with thee dwell.
Learn hence, ye tyrants, ere ye learn too late,
Of all your craft th' inevitable fate.
The hour is co
[...]e, the world's unclosing eyes
Disc
[...]rn with rapture where its wisdom lies;
From western heav'ns th' inverted Orient springs,
The morn of man, the dreadful night of kings.
Dim, like the day struck owl, ye grope in light,
No arm for combat, no resource in flight;
If on your guards your lingering hopes repose,
Your guards are men, and men you've made your foes;
[Page 7] If to your rocky ramparts ye repair,
De Launay's
* fate can tell your fortune there.
No turn, no shift, no courtly arts avail,
Each mask is broken, all illusions fail;
Driv'n to your last retreat of shame and fear,
One counsel waits you, one relief is near:
By worth internal, rise to self—wronght fame,
Your equal rank, your human kindred claim;
'Tis Reason's choice, 'tis Wisdom's final plan,
To drop the monarch and assume the man.
Hail man, exalted title! first and best,
On God's own image by his hand imprest;
To which at last the reas'ning race is driv'n
And seeks anew what first it gain'd from Heav'n.
O Man, my brother, how the cordial flame
Of all endearments kindles at the name!
In every clime, thy visage greets my eyes,
In every tongue, thy kindred accents rise;
The thought expanding swells my heart with glee,
It finds a friend, and loves itself in thee.
Say then, fraternal family divine,
Whom mutual wants and mutual aids combine,
Say from what source the dire delusion rose,
That souls like ours were ever made for foes;
Why earth's maternal bosom, where we tread,
To rear our mansions and receive our bread,
Should blush so often for the race she bore,
So long be-drench'd with floods of filial gore;
Why to small realms for ever rest confin'd
Our great affections, meant for all mankind?
Though climes divide us, shall the stream or sea
That forms a barrier 'twixt my friend and me,
Inspire the wish his peaceful state to mar,
And meet his falc
[...]ion in the ranks of war?
[Page 8]
Not seas, nor climes, nor wild ambition's fire,
In nations minds, could e'er the wish inspire;
Where equal rights each sober voice should guide,
No Blood would stain them, and no war divide.
'Tis dark deception, 'tis the glare of state,
Man sunk in titles, lost in Small and Great;
'Tis Rank, Distinction, all the hell that springs,
From those prolific monsters, Courts and Kings.
These are the vampires n
[...]s'd on nature's spoils;
For these with pangs the starving peasant toils;
For these the earth's broad surface teems with grain;
Theirs the dread labours of the devious main:
And when the wasted world but dares refuse
The gifts oppressive and extorted dues,
They bid wild slaughter spread the gory plains,
The life blood gushing from a thousand veins;
Erect their thrones amid the sanguine flood,
And dip their purple in the nation's blood.
The gazing croud, of glitt'ring State afraid,
Adore the pow'r their coward meanness made;
In war's short intervals, while regal shows
Still blind their reason and insult their woes,
What strange events for proud processions call!
See kingdoms crowding to a birth—night hall!
See the long pomp in gorgeous glare display'd,
The tinsel'd guards, the squadron'd horse parade;
See heralds gay, with emblems on their vest;
In tissu'd robes, tall, beauteous pages drest;
Amid superior ranks of splendid slaves,
Lords, Dukes and Princes, titulary knaves;
Confus'dly shine their crosses, gems and stars,
Sceptres and globes and crowns and spoils of wars.
On gilded orbs see thund'ring chariots roll'd,
Steeds, snorting fire, and champing bits of gold,
Prance to the trumpet's voice, while each assumes
A loftier gait, and lifts his neck of plumes.
High on a moving throne, and near the van,
The tyrant rides, the chosen scourge of man;
Cl
[...]ions and flutes and drums his way prepare,
And shouting millions rend the troubled air:
[Page 9] Millions, whose ceaseless toils the pomp sustain,
Whose hour of stupid joy repays an age of pain.
Of these no more. From orders, slaves and kings,
To thee, O Man! my heart rebounding springs:
Behold th' ascending bliss that waits your call,
Heav'n's own bequest, the heritage of all:
Awake to wisdom, seize the proffer'd prize;
From shade to light, from grief to glory rise.
Freedom at last, with Reason in her train,
Extends o'er earth her everlasting reign;
See Gallia's sons, so late the tyrant's sport,
Machines in war and sycophants at court,
Start into men, expand their well-taught mind,
Lords of themselves and leaders of mankind:
On equal rights their base of empire lies,
On wall's of wisdom see the structure rise;
Wide o'er the gazing world it tow'rs sublime,
A mo
[...]ell'd form for each surrounding clime.
To useful toils they bend their noblest aim,
Make patriot views and moral views the same;
Renounce the wish of war, bid conquest cease,
Invite all men to happiness and peace;
To faith and justice rear the youthful race,
With strength exalt them and with science grace;
Till truth's blest banners, o'er the regions hurl'd,
Shake tyrants from their thrones, and cheer the waking world.
In northern climes, where feudal shades of late
Chill'd every heart and palsied every State,
Behold, illumin'd by th' instructive age,
That great phenomenon, a sceptred sage:
There Stanislaus unfolds his prudent plan,
Tears the strong bandage from the eyes of man,
Points the progressive march, and shapes the way
That leads a realm from darkness into day.
And deign, for once, to turn a transient eye
To that wide world that skirts the western sky;
Hail the mild morning, where the dawn began,
The full fruition of the hopes of man;
[Page 10] Where sage experience seals the sacred cause,
And that rare union, Liberty and Laws,
Speaks to the reas'ning race,"To freedom rise,
Like them be equal, and like them be wise."
THE PROSPECT OF PEACE.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1778.
THE closing scenes of Tyrants' fruitless rage,
The op'ning prospects of a golden age,
The dread events that crown th' important year,
Wake the glad song, and claim th' attentive ear.
Long has Columbia rung with dire alarms,
While Freedom call'd her injur'd sons to arms;
While various fortune fir'd th' embattled field,
Conquest delay'd, and victory stood conceal'd;
While closing legions mark'd their dreadful way,
And millions trembled for the dubious day.
In this grand conflict heaven's Eternal Sire,
At whose dread frown the sons of guilt expire,
Bade vengeance rise, with sacred fury driven,
On these who war with Innocence and Heaven.
Behold, where late the trembling squadrons fled,
Hosts bow'd in chains, and hapless numbers bled,
In different fields our numerous heroes rouse,
To crop the wreath from Britain's impious brows.
Age following age shall these events relate,
Till Time's old empire yield to destin'd Fate;
Historic truth our guardian chiefs proclaim,
Their worth, their actions, and their deathless fame;
Admiring crouds their life-touch'd forms behold,
In breathing canvass, or in sculptur'd gold;
[Page 11] And hail the Leader of the fav'rite throng,
The rapt'rous theme of some heroic song.
And soon, emerging from the orient skies,
The blissful morn in glorious pomp shall rise,
Wasting fair Peace from Europe's fared coast;
Where wand'ring long, in mazy factions lost,
From realm to realm, by rage and discord driven,
She seemed resolv'd to re-ascend her heaven.
This LEWIS view'd, and reach'd a friendly hand,
Pointing her slight to this far distant land;
Bade her extend her empire o'er the West.
And Europe's balance tremble on her crest!
Now, see the Goddess mounting on the day,
To these fair climes direct her circling way,
Willing to seek, once more, an earthly throne,
To cheer the globe, and emulate the sun,
With placid look she eyes the blissful shore,
Bids the loud-thund'ring cannon cease to roar;
Bids british navies from these ports be tost,
And hostile keels no more insult the coast;
Bids private feuds her sacred vengeance feel,
And bow submissive to the public weal;
Bids long, calm years adorn the happy clime,
And roll down blessings to remotest time.
Hail! heaven-born Peace, fair Nurse of Virtue, hail!
Here fix thy sceptre and exalt thy scale;
Hence, thro' the earth extend thy late domain,
Till Heaven's own splendour shall absorb thy reign!
What scene's arise! what glories we behold!
See a broad realm its various charms unfold;
See crouds of patriots bless the happy land,
A godlike senate and a warlike band;
One friendly Genius fires the num'rous whole,
From glowing Georgia to the frozen pole.
Along these shores, amid these flow'ry vales,
The woodland shout the joyous ear assails;
Industrious crouds in different labours toil,
Those ply the arts, and these improve the soil:
Here the fond merchant counts his rising gain,
There strides the rustic o'er the surrow'd plain;
[Page 12] Here walks the statesman, pensive and serene,
And there the school boy gambols round the green.
See rip'ning harvests gild the smiling plains,
Kind Nature's bounty and the pride of swains;
Luxuriant vines their curling tendrils shoot,
And bow their heads to drop the clust'ring fruit;
In the gay fields, with rich profusion strow'd,
The orchard bends beneath its yellow load;
The lofty boughs their annual burden pour,
And juicy harvests swell th' autumnal store.
These are the blessings of impartial heaven,
To each fond heart in just proportion given
No grasping lord shall grind the neighbouring poor,
Starve numerous vassals to increase his store;
No cringiug slave shall at his presence bend,
Shrink at his frown, and at his nod attend;
Afric's unhappy children, now, no more
Shall feel the cruel chains they felt before;
But ev'ry State in this just mean agree,
To bless mankind, and set th' oppressed free.
Then, rapt in transport, each exulting slave
Shall taste that Boon which God and nature gave;
And, fir'd with virtue, join the common cause,
Protect our freedom and enjoy our laws.
At this calm period, see, in pleasing view,
Art vi
[...] with Art, and nature smiles anew:
On the long winding strand, that meets the tide,
Unnumber'd cities lift their spiry pride;
Gay, flow'ry walks salute th' enrap
[...]ur'd eyes;
Tall, beauteous domes in dazzling prospect rise;
There thronging navies stretch their wanton sails,
Tempt the broad main and catch the driving gales;
There commerce swells from each remotest shore,
And wafts in plenty to the smiling store.
To these throng'd seats, the country wide resorts,
And rolls her treasures to the op'ning ports;
While, far remote, gay health and pleasure flow,
And calm retirement cheers the lab'ring brow.
No din of arms the peaceful patriot hears,
No parting sigh the tender matron fears,
[Page 13] No field of fame invites the youth to rove,
Nor virgins know a harsher found than love.
Fair Science then her laurel'd beauty rears,
And soars with Genius to the radiant stars:
Her glimmering dawn from Gothic darkness rose,
And nations saw her shadowy veil disclose;
She cheer'd fair Europe with her rising smiles,
Beam'd a bright morning o'er the British isles,
Now soaring reaches her meridian height,
And blest Columbia hails the dazzling light!
Here, rapt in thought, the philosophic soul
Shall look thro' Nature's parts and grasp the whole:
See Genius kindling at a FRANKLIN'S fame,
See unborn sages catch th' electric flame;
Bid hov'ring clouds the threat'ning blast expire,
Curb the fierce stream and hold th' imprison'd fire;
See the pleas'd youth, with anxious study, rove,
In orbs eccentric thro' the realms above,
No more perplex'd, while RITTENHOUSE appears
To grace the museum with the rolling spheres.
See that young Genius, that inventive soul,
Whose laws the jarring elements control:
Who guides the vengeance of mechanic power,
To blast the watery world and guard the peaceful shore.
And where's the rising Sage, the unknown name,
That new advent'rer in the lists of fame,
To find the cause, in secret nature bound,
The unknown cause, and various charms of sound?
What subtile medium leads the devious way;
Why different tensions different sounds convey;
Why harsh, rough tones, in grating discord roll,
Or mingling concert charms th' enraptur'd soul.
And tell the cause why sluggish vapours rise,
And wave, exalted, thro' the genial skies;
What strange contrivance nature forms to
[...]ear
The ponderous burden thro' the lighter air.
These last Displays the curious mind engage,
And fire the genius of the rising age;
[Page 14] While moral thoughts the pleas'd attention claim,
Swell the warm soul, and wake the virtuous flame;
While Metaphysics soar a boundless height,
And launch with EDWARDS to the realms of light.
See the blest Muses hail their roseate bowers,
Their mansions blooming with poetic flowers;
See listening Seraphs join the epic throng,
And unborn JOSHUAS rise in future song.
Satire attends at Virtue's wakening call,
And Pride and Coquetry and Dulness fall.
Unnumber'd bards shall string the heavenly lyre,
To those blest strains which heavenly themes inspire;
Sing the rich Grace on mortal Man bestow'd,
The Virgin's Offspring and the
filial God;
What love descends from heaven when JESUS dies:
What shouts attend him rising thro' the skies!
See Science now, in lovelier charms appear,
Grac'd with new garlands from the blooming Fair.
See laurel'd nymphs in polish'd pages shine,
And Sapphic sweetness glow in every line.
No more the rougher Muse shall dare disgrace
The radiant charms that deck the blushing face;
But rising Beauties scorn the tinsel show,
The powder'd coxcomb and the flaunting beau;
While humble Merit, void of flatt'ring wiles,
Claims the soft glance, and wakes th' enliv'ning smiles.
The opening lustre of an angel-mind,
Beauty's bright charms, with sense superior join'd,
Bid Virtue shine, bid Truth and Goodness rise,
Melt from the voice, and sparkle from the eyes;
While the pleas'd Muse the gentle bosom warms,
The first in genius, as the first in charms.
Thus age and youth a smiling aspect wear,
Aw'd into virtue by the leading Fair;
While the bright offspring, rising to the stage,
Conveys the blessings to the future age.
THESE are the views that Freedom's cause attend;
THESE shall endure 'till Time and Nature end.
[Page 15] With Science crown'd, shall Peace and Virtue shine,
And blest Religion beam a light divine.
Here the pure Church, descending from her God,
Shall fix on earth her long and last abode;
Zion arise, in radiant splendours dress'd,
By Saints admir'd, by Infidels confess'd;
Her opening courts, in dazzling glory, blaze,
Her walls salvation, and her portals praise.
From each far corner of th' extended earth,
Her gathering sons shall claim their promis'd birth:
Thro' the drear wastes, beneath the setting day,
Where prowling natives haunt the woods for prey,
The swarthy Millions lift their wond'ring eyes,
And smile to see the Gospel morning rise:
Those who, thro' time, in savage darkness lay,
Wake to new light and hail the glorious day!
In those dark regions, those uncultur'd wilds,
Fresh blooms the rose, the peaceful lily smiles;
On the tail cliffs unnumber'd
Carmels rise,
And in each vale some beauteous
Sharon lies.
From this fair Mount th' excinded stone shall roll,
Reach the far East, and spread from pole to pole;
From one small Stock shall countless nations rise,
The world replenish and adorn the skies:
Earth's blood stain'd empires, with their Guide, the Sun,
From orient climes their gradual progress run;
And circling far, reach ev'ry western shore,
'Till earth-born empires rise and fall no more.
But see th' imperial GUIDE from heaven descend,
Whose beams are Peace, whose kingdom knows no
From calm Vesperia, thro' th' etherial way, end;
Back sweep the shades before th' effulgent day;
Thro' the broad East, the bright'ning splendour driven,
Reverses Nature and illumines heaven;
Astonish'd regions bless the gladd'ning sight,
And Suns and Systems own superior light.
As when th' asterial blaze o'er Bethl'em stood,
Which mark'd the birth-place of th' incarnate God;
[Page 16] When eastern priests the heav'nly splendour view'd,
And num'rous crouds the wond'rous sign pursu'd;
So eastern kings shall view th' unclouded day
Rise in the West and streak its golden way:
That signal spoke a Saviour's humble birth;
This speaks his long and glorious reign on earth!
THEN Love shall rule, and Innocence adore,
Discord shall cease, and Tyrants be no more:
Till yon bright orb, and those celestial spheres,
In radiant circles, mark a thousand years;
'Till the grand
fiat burst th' ethe
[...]ial frames,
Worlds crush on worlds, and Nature sink inflames!
The Church elect, from smould'ring ruins, rise,
And sail triumphant thro' the yielding skies,
Hail'd by the Bridegroom! to the Father given,
The Joy of Angels, and the Queen of Heaven!
PHILOSOPHIC SOLITUDE.
LET ardent heroes seek renown in arms,
Pant after fame and rush to war's alarms;
To shining palaces let fools resort,
And dunces cringe, to be esteem'd at court:
Mine be the pleasures of a rural life,
From noise remote, and ignorant of strife;
Far from the painted belle, and white-glov'd beau,
The lawless masquerade, and midnight show:
From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars,
Fops, fidlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars.
Full in the centre of some shady grove,
By nature form'd for solitude and love:
On banks array'd with ever-blooming flowers,
Near beauteous landscapes or by roseate bowers,
[Page 17] My neat, but simple mansion I would raise,
Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days;
Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd,
With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd.
No costly furniture should grace my hall;
But curling vines ascend against the wall,
Whose pliant branches should luxuriant twine,
While purple clusters swell'd with future wine;
To slake my thirst a liquid lapse distil
From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid rill.
Along my mansion, spiry firs should grow,
And gloomy yews extend the shady row:
The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise,
Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies:
Among the leaves, refreshing zephyrs play,
And cro
[...]ding trees exclude the noon-tide ray;
Whereon the birds their downy nests should form,
Securely shelter'd from the battering storm;
And to melodious notes their choir apply,
Soon as Aurora blush'd along the sky:
While all around th' enchanting music rings,
And ev'ry vocal grove responsive sings.
Me to sequester'd scenes, ye muses, guide,
Where nature wantons in her virgin pride;
To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flowers,
Elysian fields and amaranthine bowers,
To ambrosial founts, and sleep—inspiring rills,
To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and sunny hills.
Welcome, ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms!
Ye bow'ry thickets, and prophetic glooms!
Ye forests, hail! ye solitary woods!
Love-whispering groves, and silver-streaming floods!
Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale!
Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties, hail!
Oh how I long with you to spend my days,
Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays!
No trumpets there with martial clangour sound,
No prostrate heroes strew the crimson ground;
No groves of lances glitter in the air,
Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war:
[Page 18] But white-rob'd Peace, and universal Love,
Smile in the field, and brighten ev'ry grove:
There all the beauties of the circling year,
In native ornamental pride appear;
Gay, rosy-bosom'd Spring, and April show'rs:
Wake, from the womb of earth, the rising flow'rs:
In deeper verdure, Summer clothes the plain,
And Autumn bends beneath the golden grain;
The trees weep amber; and the whispering gales
Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales:
The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom,
Profuse with sweets, and fragrant with perfume;
On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise,
And varied prospects glad the wand'ring eyes.
In these fair seats, I'd pass the joyous day,
Where meadows flourish, and where fields look gay,
From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure rove,
Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove,
Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades,
Aërial mountains, or subjacent glades.
There from the polish'd fetters of the great,
Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state—
Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves,
Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves,
From all the vain formality of fools,
And odious task of arbitrary rules;
The ruffling cares, which the vex'd soul annoy,
The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy,
The visionary bliss the world can lend,
Th' insidious foe, and false, designing friend,
The seven-fold fury of Zantippe's soul,
And S—'s rage, that burns without controul;
I'd live retir'd, contented, and serene,
Forgot, unknown, unenvied, and unseen.
Yet not a real hermitage I'd choose,
Nor wish to live from all the world recluse;
But with a friend sometimes unbend the soul,
In social converse, o'er the sprightly bowl.
With cheerful W—, serene and wisely gay,
I'd often pass the dancing hours away:
[Page 19] He, skill'd alike to profit and to please,
Politely talks with unaffected ease;
Sage in debate, and faithful to his trust,
Mature in science, and severely just;
Of soul diffusive, vast and unconfin'd,
Breathing benevolence to all mankind;
Cautious to censure, ready to commend,
A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend;
In early youth, fair Wisdom's paths he trod,
In early youth, a minister of God,
Each pupil lov'd him, when at Yale he shone,
And ev'ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone.
Dear A—, too, should grace my rural seat,
Forever welcome to the green retreat:
Heav'n for the cause of righteousness design'd
His florid genius, and capacious mind:
Oft have I heard, amidst th' adoring throng,
Celestial truths devolving from his tongue:
High o'er the list'ning audience seen him stand,
Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand;
With such becoming grace and pompous sound,
With long-rob'd senators encircled round,
Before the Roman bar, while Rome was free,
Nor bow'd to Caesar's throne the servile knee,
Immortal Tully plead the patriot cause,
While ev'ry tongue resounded his applause.
Next round my board should candid S—appear,
Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere,
Averse to discord, party-rage and strife,
He sails serenely down the stream of life.
With these three friends, beneath a spreading shade,
Where silver fountains murmur thro' the glade;
Or in cool grots, perfum'd with native flow'rs,
In harmless mirth, I'd spend the circling hours;
Or gravely talk, or innocently sing,
Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string.
Amid sequester'd bow'rs, near gliding streams,
Druids and bards enjoy'd serenest dreams.
Such was the seat where courtly Horace sung,
And his bold harp immortal Maro strung:
[Page 20] Where tuneful Orpheus' unresisted lay
Made rapid tigers bear their rage away:
While groves, attentive to th' extatic sound,
Burst from their roots, and, raptur'd, danc'd around,
Such feats the venerable seers of old
(When blissful years in golden circles roll'd)
Chose and admir'd: e'en goddesses and gods
(As poets feign) were fond of such abodes:
Th' imperial consort of fictitious Jove
For fount-full Ida forsook the realms above.
Oft to Idalia, on a golden cloud,
Veil'd in a mist of fragrance, Venus rode:
There num'rous altars to the queen were rear'd,
And love-sick youths their am'rous vow
[...] prefer'd,
While fair hair'd damsels (a lascivious train)
With wanton rites ador'd her gentle reign.
The silver-shafted huntress of the woods,
Sought pendant shades, and bath'd in cooling floods.
In palmy Delos, by Scamander's side,
Or where Cajister roll'd his silver tide,
Melodious Phoebus sang; the muses round
Alternate warbling to the heavenly sound.
E'en the feign'd monarch of heav'n's bright abode,
High thron'd in gold, of gods the sov'reign god,
Oft' time prefer'd the shade of Ida's grove
To all th' ambrosial feasts, and nectar'd caps above.
Behold, the rosy finger'd morning dawn,
In saffron rob'd, and blushing o'er the lawn!
Reflected from the clouds, a radiant stream
Tips with etherial dew the mountain's brim.
Th' unfolding roses, and the op'ning flow'rs,
Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied bow'rs,
Diffuse nectareous sweets around, and glow
With all the colours of the show'ry bow.
Th' industrious bees their balmy toil renew,
Buzz o'er the field, and sip the rosy dew.
But yonder comes th' illustrious god of day,
Invests the east, and gilds th' etherial way;
The groves rejoice, the feather'd nations sing,
Echo the mountains, and the vallies ring.
[Page 21]
Hail, orb! array'd with majesty and fire,
That bids each sable shade of night retire!
Fountain of light! with burning glory crown'd,
Da
[...]ting a deluge of effulgence round!
Wak'd by thy genial and prolific ray,
Nature resumes her verdure, and looks gay:
Fresh blooms the rose, the drooping plants revive,
The groves reflourish, and the forests live.
Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning ore
Confesses thy consolidating pow'r;
Hence Labour draws her tools, and artists mould
The fusile silver and the ductile gold;
Hence war is furnish'd; and the regal shield,
Like light'ning, flashes o'er th' illumin'd field.
If thou so fair, with delegated light,
That all heav'n's splendours vanish at thy sight,
With what effulgence must the ocean glow,
From which thy borrow'd beams incessant flow!
Th' exhaustless source whose single smile supplies
Th' unnumber'd orbs that gild the spangled skies!
Oft' would I view, in admiration lost,
Heav'n's sumptuous canopy, and starry host;
With level'd tube, and astronomic eye,
Pursue the planets whirling thro' the sky:
Immeasurable vault! where thunders roll,
And forky lightnings flash from pole to pole.
Say, railing infidel! canst thou survey
Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden day,
The harmonious structure of this vast machine,
And not confess its architect divine?
Then go, vain wretch! tho' deathless be thy soul,
Go, swell the riot, and exhaust the bowl;
Plunge into vice—humanity resign—
Go fill the stie—and bristle into swine!
None but a pow'r omnipotent and wise
Could frame this earth, or spread the boundless skies:
He made the whole; at his omnific call,
From formless chaos rose this spacious ball,
And one Almighty God is seen in all.
[Page 22] By him our cup is crown'd, our
[...] spread,
With luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread.
What countless wonders doth the earth contain!
What countless wonders the unfathom'd main
[...]
Bedropp'd with gold, there scaly nations shine,
Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming brine.
Jehovah's glories blaze all nature round,
In heaven, on earth, and in the deeps profound;
Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing,
And praise their Maker, while they hail the spring;
The zephyrs breathe it; and the thunders roar,
While surge to surge, and shore resounds to shore.
But man, endu'd with an immortal mind,
His Maker's image, and for heaven design'd,
To loftier notes his raptur'd voice should raise,
And chaunt sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise.
When rising Phoebus ushers in the morn,
And golden beams th' impurpled skies adorn:
Wak'd by the gentle murmur of the floods,
Or the soft music of the waving woods;
Rising from sleep with the melodious quire,
To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallow'd lyre.
Thy name, O God! should tremble on my tongue,
Till ev'ry grove prov'd vocal to my song:
(Delightful task! with dawning light to sing
Triumphant hymns to heav'n's eternal king.)
Some courteous angel should my breast inspire,
Attune my lips, and guide the warbled wire,
While sportive echoes catch the sacred sound;
Swell ev'ry note, and bear the music round;
While mazy streams, meand'ring to the main,
Hang in suspense to hear the heav'nly strain,
And, hush'd to silence, all the feather'd throng
Attentive listen to the tuneful song.
Father of light! exhaustless source of good!
Supreme, eternal, self-existent God!
Before the beamy sun dispens'd a ray,
Flam'd in the azure vault, and gave the day;
Before the glimm'ring moon, with borrow'd light,
Shone queen amid the silver host of night;
[Page 23] High in the heav'ns, thou reign'dst superior Lord,
By suppliant angels worshipp'd and ador'd.
With the celestial choir then let me join,
In cheerful praises to the pow'r divine:
To sing thy praise, do thou, O God! inspire
A mortal breast with more than mortal fire:
In dreadful majesty thou
[...] enthron'd,
With light encircled, and with glory crown'd;
Thro' all infinitude extends thy reign,
For thee, nor heav'n, nor heav'n of heav'ns contain;
But tho' thy throne is fix'd above the sky,
Thy omnipresence sills immensity.
Saints, rob'd in white, to thee their anthems bring,
And radiant martyrs hallelujahs sing:
Heaven's universal host their voices raise
In one eternal chorus, to thy praise;
And, round thy awful throne, with one accord,
Sing, holy, holy, holy is the Lord.
At thy creative voice, from ancient night,
Sprang smiling beauty, and you worlds of light:
Thou spak'st—the planetary chorus roll'd,
And all th' expanse was starr'd with beamy gold;
Let there be light, said God—light instant shone,
And from the orient, burst the golden sun;
Heav'n's gazing hierarchs, with glad surprise,
Saw the first morn invest the recent skies,
And strait th' exulting troops thy throne surround
With thousand thousand harps of heav'nly sound:
Thrones, powers dominions (ever shining trains!),
Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains:
Great are thy works, they
[...]ng; and, all around,
Great are thy works, the echoing heav'ns resound.
The effulgent sun, insufferably bright,
Is but a beam of thy o'erflowing light;
The tempest is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd,
Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world;
Thou
[...]ow'st the heav'ns, the smoking mountains nod,
Bocks fall to dust, and nature owns her God;
Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast.
And impious kings in horror breathe their last.
[Page 24] To this great God alternately I'd pay
The ev'ning anthem, and the morning lay.
For sov'reign gold I never would repine,
Nor wish the glitt'ring dust of monarchs mine.
What tho' high columns, heave into the skies.
Gay cielings shine, and vaulted arches rise!
Tho' fretted gold the sculptur'd roof adorn,
The rubies redden, and the jaspers burn!
O what, alas! avails the gay attire
To wretched man, who breathes but to expire?
Oft' on the vilest, riches are bestow'd,
To show their meanness in the sight of God.
High from a dunghill, see a Dives rise,
And, Titan like, insult th' avenging skies:
The crowd, in adulation, calls him Lord,
By thousands courted, flatter'd and ador'd:
In
[...]iot plung'd, and drunk with earthly joys,
No higher thought his grov'ling soul employs;
The poor he scourges with an iron rod,
And from his bosom banishes his God.
But oft' in height of wealth and beauty's bloom,
Deluded man is fated to the tomb!
For, lo! he sickens; swift his colour flies,
And rising mists obscure his swimming eyes;
Around his bed his weeping friends bemoan,
Extort the unwilling tear, and wish him gone;
His sorrowing heir augments the tender show'r,
Deplores his death—yet hails the dying hour.
Ah bitter comfort! Sad relief! to die,
Tho' sunk in down, beneath the canopy!
His eyes no more shall see the cheerful light,
Weigh'd down by death in everlasting night,
And now the great, the rich, the proud, the gay,
Lie breathless, cold—unanimated clay!
He, that just now was flatter'd by the crowd,
With high applause, and acclamations loud—
That steel'd his bosom to the orphan's cries,
And drew down torrents from the widow's eyes—
Whom, like a God, the rabble did adore—
Regard him now—and, lo! he is no more.
[Page 25]
My eyes no dazzling vestments should behold,
With gems instarr'd, and stiff with woven gold;
But the tall ram his downy fleece afford,
To clothe, in modest garb, his frugal lord.
Thus the great Father of mankind was drest,
When shaggy hides compos'd his flowing vest;
Doom'd to the cumb'rous load, for his offence,
When clothes supply'd the want of innocence:
But now his sons (forgetful whence they came)
Glitter in gems, and glory in their shame.
Oft' would I wander thro' the dewy field,
Where clust'ring roses balmy fragrance yield:
Or in lone grots, for contemplation made,
Converse with angels and the mighty dead;
For all around unnumber'd spirits fly,
Wast on the breeze, or walk the liquid sky,
Inspire the poet with repeated dreams,
Who gives his hallow'd muse to sacred themes;
Pro
[...]ect the just, serene their gloomy hours,
Becalm their slumbers, and refresh their pow'rs.
Methinks I see th' immortal beings fly,
And swiftly shoot athwart the streaming sky:
Hark! a melodious voice I seem to hear,
And heav'nly sounds invade my list'ning ear!
Be not afraid of us, innoxious band,
Thy cell surrounding by divine command;
Ere while, like thee, we led our lives below,
(Sad lives of pain, of misery, and woe!)
Long by affliction's boist'rous tempests tost,
We reach'd at length the ever bli
[...]ful coast:
Now in th' embow'ring groves, and lawns above,
We taste the raptures of immortal love,
Attune the golden harp in roseate bow'rs,
Or bind our temples with unfading flow'rs.
Oft' on kind errands bent, we cut the air,
To guard the righteous, heav'n's peculiar care'
Avert impending harms, their minds compose,
Inspire gay dreams, and prompt their soft repose.
When from thy tongue divine hosannas roll,
And sacred raptures swell thy rising soul,
[Page 26] To heav'n we bear thy pray'rs, like rich perfumes;
Where, by the throne, the golden censer sumes;
And when with age thy head is silver'd o'er,
And, cold in death, thy bosom beats no more,
Thy soul, exulting, shall desert its clay,
And mount, triumphant, to eternal day,
But to improve the intellectual mind,
Reading should be to contemplation join'd.
First I'd collect from the Parnassion spring,
What muses dictate, and what poets sing.—
Virgil, as prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown,
And other bards pay homage to his throne;
The blood of heroes now effus'd so long,
Will run for ever purple thro' his song:
See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes,
On planets rides, and talks with demi-gods!
How do our ravish'd spirits melt away,
When in his song Sicilian Shepherds play!
But what a splendour strikes the dazzled eye,
When Dido shines in awful majesty!
Embroidered purple clad the Tyrian queen,
Her motion graceful, and august her mein;
A golden zone her royal limbs embrac'd,
A golden quiver
[...]tled by her waist,
See her proud steed majestically prance,
Contemn the trumpet, and deride the lance!
In crimson trappings, glorious to behold,
Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold!
He champs the bit, and throws the foam around,
In patient paws, and tears the solid ground,
How stern AEners thunders thro' the field!
With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield!
Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain,
Deform'd with go
[...]e, lie welt
[...]ring on the plain,
Struck through with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie,
Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die,
Thro' the thick squadrons see the hero bound!
(His helmet slashes, and his arms resound!)
[Page 27] All grim with rage, he frowns o'er Turnus' head,
(Re kindled ire! for blooming, Pallas dead)
Then in his bosom plung'd the shining blade—
The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade!
The far-fam'd bards that grac'd Britannia's isle,
Should next compose the venerable pile.
Great Milton first, for tow'ring thought renown'd,
Parent of song, and fam'd the world around!
His glowing breast divine Urania fir'd,
Or God himself th' immortal bard inspir'd:
Borne on triumphant wings, he takes his flight,
Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light:
In martial pomp he clothes th' angelic train,
While warring myriads shake the etherial plain,
First Michael stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest,
With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest:
Impenetrable arms his limbs infold,
Eternal adamant, and burning gold!
Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight,
Rebellions Satan animates the sight:
Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke,
All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook.
To crush his foes, and quell the di
[...]e alarms,
Messiah sparkled in refulgent arms:
In radiant panoply divinely bright,
His limbs incas'd, he flash'd devouring light:
On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road,
Thunder'd the chariot of the filial God;
The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd,
With flaming gems the golden axles burn'd.
Lo
[...] the apostate host, with terror struck,
Roll back by millions! Th' empyrean shook!
Sceptres, and orbed shields, and crowns of gold,
Cherubs and seraphs in confusion roll'd;
Till from his hand the triple thunder hurl'd,
Compell'd them, head-long, to th' internal world.
Then tuneful Pope, whom all the nine inspire,
With Sapphic sweetness, and Pindaric fire,
Father of
[...] melodious and divine
[...]
Next peerless Milton should distinguish'd shine.
[Page 28] Smooth flow his numbers, when he paints the grove,
Th' enraptur'd virgins list'ning into love:
But when the night, and hoarse-resounding storm
Rush on the deep and Neptune's face deform,
Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar,
Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore.
But when he sings, th' exhilirated swains,
Th' embow'ring groves, and Windsor's blissful plains.
Our eyes are ravished with the sylvan scene,
Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green;
His lays the verdure of the meads prolong,
And wither'd forests blossom in his song.
Thames' silver streams his flowing verse admire,
And cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre.
Next should appear great Dryden's lofty muse,
For who would Dryden's polish'd verse refuse?
His lips were moisten'd in Parnassus' spring,
And Phoebus taught his laureat son to sing.
How long did Virgil untranslated moan,
His beauties fading, and his flights unknown;
Till Dryden rose, and, in exalted strain,
Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man!
Again the Trojan prince, with dire delight,
Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring sight:
Again Camilla glows with martial fire,
Drives armies back, and makes all Troy retire.
With more than native lustre, Virgil shines,
And gains sublimer heights in Dryden's lines.
The gentle Watts, who strings his silver lyre
To sacred odes, and heav'n's all ruling Sire;
Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stage,
And mounts you sparkling worlds with hallow'd rage,
Compels my thoughts to wing th' heav'nly road,
And waf
[...]s my soul, exulting, to my God:
No fabled nine, harmonious bard! inspire
Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic sire;
But prompting angels warm thy boundless rage,
Direct thy thoughts, and animate thy page.
[Page 29] Blest man! for spotless sanctity rever'd,
Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty fear'd;
Blest man! from gay, delusive scenes remov'd,
Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd,
To God thou tun'st thy consecrated lays,
Nor meanly blush to sing Jehovah's praise.
Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard delight
To paint Religion in her native light,
Not then with plays the lab'ring press would groan,
Nor Vice defy the pulpit and the throne;
No impious rhyme
[...]s charm a vicious age,
Nor prostrate Virtue groan beneath their rage:
But themes divine in lofty numbers rise,
Fill the wide earth, and echo thro' the skies.
These for delight. For profit I would read
The labour'd volumes of the learned dead.
Sagacious Locke, by Providence design'd,
To exalt, instruct, and rectify the mind,
The unconquerable sage
* whom virtue fi
[...]'d,
And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd,
When victor Caesar freed unhappy Rome
From Pompey's chains, to substitute his own.
Longinus, Livy, fam'd Thucydides,
Quintilian, Plato, and Demosthenes,
Persuasive Tully, and Corduba's sage,
†
Who fell by Nero's unrelenting rage;
Him
‡ whom ungrateful Athens doom'd to bleed,
Despis'd when living, and deplor'd when dead,
Raleigh I'd read with ever fresh delight,
While ages past rise present to my sight:
Ah man unblest! he foreign realms explo
[...]'d,
Then fell a victim to his country's sword!
Nor should great Derham pass neglected by,
Observant sage! to whose deep piercing eye,
Nature's stupendous works expanded lie.
Nor he, Britannia, thy unmatch'd renown!
(Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic crown)
[Page 30] Who on the solar orb uplifted rode,
And scann'd the unfathomable works of God
[...]
Who bound the silver planets to their spheres,
And trac'd the elliptic curve of blazing stars!
Immortal Newton; whose illustrious name
Will shine on records of eternal fame.
By love directed, I would choose a wife,
To improve my bliss, and ease the load of life.
Hail, wedlock! hail, inviolable rye!
Perpetual fountain of domestic joy!
Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure delight
Harmonius mingle in the nuptial rite.
In Eden, first, the holy state began,
When perfect innocence distinguish'd man;
The human pair, the Almighty pontiff led,
Gay as the morning, to the bridal bed;
A dread solemnity the espousals grac'd,
Angels the witnesses, and God the priest!
All earth exulted on the nuptial hour,
And voluntary roses deck'd the bow'r;
The joyous birds on every blossom'd spray,
Sang hymeneans to the important day,
While Philomela swell'd the spousal song,
And Paradise with gratulations rung.
Relate, inspiring muse! where shall I find
A blooming virgin with an angel mind?
Unblemish'd as the white-rob'd virgin quire
That fed, O Rome! thy consecrated fire?
By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good,
Averse to vice, and zealous for her God?
Relate, in what blest region can I find
Such bright perfections in a female mind?
What phoenix-woman breathes the vital air
So greatly good, and so divinely fair?
Sure not the gay and fashionable train,
[...] proud, immoral, and
[...];
Who
[...] their golden hours in antic dress,
[...] us whispers, and inglorious ease.
Lo! round the boa
[...]d a shining train appears
In rosy beauty, and in prime of years!
[Page 31] This hates a flounce, and this a flounce approves,
This shows the trophies of her former loves;
Polly avers, that Sylvia drest in green,
When last at church the gaudy nymph was seen;
Chloe condemns her optics; and will lay
'Twas azure satin, interstreak'd with grey;
Lucy, invested with judicial power,
Awards 'twas neither,—and the strife is o'er.
Then parrots, lap dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaux,
Fans, ribands, tuckers, patches, furbeloes,
In quick succession, thro' their fancies run,
And dance incessant, on the flippant tongue.
And when, fatigu'd with ev'ry other sport,
The belles prepare to grace the sacred court,
They marshal all their forces in array,
To kill with glances, and destroy in play.
Two skilful maids with reverential fear,
In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair;
Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples pour
The fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial shower;
One pulls the shape—creating stays; and one
Encircles round her waist the golden zone;
Not with more toil to improve immortal charms,
Strove Juno, Venus, and the queen of arms,
When Priam's son adjudg'd the golden prize,
To the resistless beauty of the skies.
At length, equip'd in Love's enticing arms,
With all that glitters, and with all that charms,
The ideal goddesses to church repair,
Peep thro' the fan, and mutter o'er a pray'r,
Or listen to the organ's pompous sound,
Or eye the gilded images around;
Or, deeply studied in coquettish rules,
Aim wily glances at unthinking fools;
Or show the lily hand with graceful air,
Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair:
And when the hated discipline is o'er,
And misses tortur'd with repent, no more,
They mount the pictur'd coach; and, to the play,
The celebrated idols hie away.
[Page 32]
Not so the lass that should my joys improve,
With solid friendship, and connubial love:
A native bloom, with intermingled white,
Should set her features in a pleasing light;
Like Helen flushing with unrival'd charms,
When raptur'd Paris darted in her arms.
But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek,
A downy bosom, or a snowy neck!
Charms ill supply the want of innocence,
Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence:
But in her breast let moral beauties shine,
Supernal grace and purity divine:
Sublime her reason, and her native wit
Unstrain'd with pedantry, and low conceit;
Her fancy lively, and her judgment free
From female prejudice and bigotry:
Averse to idol pomp, and outward show,
The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic beau.
The fop's impertinence she should despise,
Tho' sorely wounded by her radiant eyes;
But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind,
By learning polish'd, and by wit refin'd,
Who all her virtues, without guile, commends,
And all her faults as freely reprehends,
Soft Hymen's rites her passion should approve,
And in her bosom glow the flames of love:
To me her soul, by sacred friendship, turn,
And I, for her, with equal friendship burn:
In ev'ry stage of life afford relief,
Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief;
Unshaken, walk in Virtue's peaceful road,
Nor bribe her reason to pursue the mode;
Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiv'n,
Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as heaven.
This be the partner, this the lovely wife,
That should embellish and prolong my life,
A nymph! who might a second fall inspire,
And fill a glowing cherub with desire!
With her I'd spend the pleasurable day,
While fleeting minutes gayly danc'd away:
[Page 33] With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the green,
Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural scene;
Or sit in open fields damask'd with flow'rs,
Or where cool shades imbrown the noon-tide bow'rs,
Imparadis'd within my eager arms,
I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms;
Oft' on her panting bosom would I lay,
And, in dissolving raptures melt away;
Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest,
My blooming fair should slumber at my breast.
And when decrepid age (frail mortals' doom)
Should bend my wither'd body to the tomb,
No warbling syrens should retard my flight
To heavenly mansions of unclouded light.
Tho' Death, with his imperial horrors crown'd,
Terrific grinn'd, and formidably frown'd,
Offences pardon'd, and remitted sin,
Should form a calm serenity within:
Blessing my natal and my mortal hour
(My soul committed to the eternal pow'r)
Inexorable Death should smile, for I,
Who knew to live, would never fear to die.
SINGLE LIFE AND MATRIMONY CONTRASTED.
THE matrimonial state—All prudent men approve;
The wise sincerely hate—A course of changing love;
True happiness we find—In Hymen's silken chain,
With those who are unjoin'd—There's nought but fear and pain.
I'll therefore wisely dare—To have a constant wife,
To change from fair to fair—Is but a wretched life.
[Page 34]
AN ORATION, Which might been delivered to the Students in Anatomy, on the late Rupture between the two Schools in Philadelphia. *
THE ARGUMENT.
ADDRESS—the folly and danger of dissention—the Orator enumerates the enemies of the fraternity—reminds them of a late unseasonable interruption—a night scene in the Potter's Field—he laments the want of true zeal in the brotherhood—and boasts of his own—the force of a ruling passion—the earth considered as a great animal—the passion of love not the same in a true son of Esoulapius as in other m [...]n—his own amour—a picture of his mistress in high taste—shews his learning in the description of her mouth, arm and hand—his mistress dies—his grief—and extraordinary consolation—his [...] fidelity—he apologizes for giving this history of his [...]—the great difficulties [...] have to encounter in the present times, arising from false delicacy. [Page 35] prejudice and ignorance—a strong instance in proof that it was not so formerly—curious argument to prove the inconsistency of the present opinions respecting the practice—he mentions many obstacles in the road to science—and reproaches them for their intestine broils, at a time when not only popular clamour is loud, but even the powers of government are exerted against them—he then encourages his brethren with hopes of better times, founded on the establishment of the College of Physicians—is inspired with the idea of the future glory of that institution—and prophesies great things.
FRIENDS and associates! lend a patient ear,
Suspend intestine broils and reason hear.
Ye followers of F—your wrath forbear—
Ye sons of S—your invectives spare;
The fierce dissention your high minds pursue
Is sport for others—ruinous to you.
Surely some fatal influenza reigns.
Some epidemic
rabies turns your brains—
Is this a time for brethren to engage
In public contest and in party rage?
Fell discord triumphs in your doubtful strife
And, smiling, whets her anatomic knife;
Prepar'd to cut our precious limbs away
And leave the bleeding body to decay—
Seek ye for foes!—alas, my friends, look round,
In ev'ry street, see num'rous foes abound!
Methinks I hear them cry, in varied tones,
"Gives us our father's,—brother's,—sister's bones."
Methinks I see a mob of sailor's rise—
Revenge!—Revenge! they cry—and dawn their eyes—
Revenge for comrade Jack, whose flesh, they say,
Y
[...] mine'd to morsels and then threw away.
Methinks I see a black internal train—
The genuine offspring of accursed
Cain—
[Page 36] Fiercely on you their angry looks are bent,
They grin and gibber dangerous discontent,
And seem to say,—"Is there net meat enough
"Ah! massa cannibal, why eat poor CUFF?"
Ev'n hostile watchmen stand in strong array,
And o'er our heads their threat'ning staves display,
Howl hideous discord thro' the noon of night,
And shake their dreadful lanthorns in our sight.
Say, are not these sufficient to engage
Your high wrought souls eternal war to wage?
Combine your strength these monsters to subdue
No friends of science and sworn foes to you;
On these,—on these your wordy vengeance pour,
And strive our fading glory to restore.
Ah! think how, late, our mutilated rites
And midnight orgies, were by sudden frights
And loud alarms profan'd—the sacrifice,
Stretch'd on a board before our eager eyes,
All naked lay—ev'n when our chieftain stood
Like a high priest, prepar'd for shedding blood;
Prepar'd, with wondrous skill, to cut or slash
The gentle sliver or the deep drawn gash;
Prepar'd to plunge ev'n elbow deep in gore
Nature and nature's secrets to explore—
Then a tumultuous cry—a sudden fear—
Proclaim'd the foe—the enraged foe is near—
In some dark hole the hard got corse was laid,
And we, in wild confusion, fled dismay'd.
Think how, like brethren, we have shar'd the toil,
When in the Potter's Field
* we sought for spoil:
Did midnight ghosts, and death, and horror, brave,
To delve for science in the dreary grave.
Shall I remind you of that awful night
When our compacted band maintain'd the fight
Against an armed host?—fierce was the fray,
And yet we bore our sheeted prize away,
Firm on a horse's back the corse was laid,
High blowing winds the winding sheet display'd;
[Page 37] Swift flew the steed—but still his burden bore—
Fear made him fleet, who ne'er was fleet before;
O'er tombs and sunken graves he cours'd around,
Nor ought respected consecrated ground.
Mean time the battle rag'd—so loud the strife,
The dead were almost frighten'd into life;
Tho' not victorious, yet we scorn'd to yield,
Retook our prize, and left the doubtful field.
In this degen'rate age, alas! how few
The paths of science with true zeal pursue?
Some trifling contest, some delusive joy,
Too oft the unsteady minds of youth employ.
For me—whom ESCULAPIUS hath inspir'd—
I boast a soul with love of science flr'd;
By one great object is my heart possest;
One ruling passion quite absorbs the rest;
In this bright point my hopes and fears unite,
And one pursuit alone can give delight.
To me things are not as to vulgar eyes,
I would all nature's works anatomize:
This world a living monster seems to me,
Rolling and sporting in the aërial sea;
The soil encompasses her rocks and stones,
As flesh in animals encircles bones.
I see vast ocean, like a heart in play,
Pant
systole and
diastole ev'ry day,
And by unnumber'd
venus streams supply'd
Up her broad rivers force the
arterial tide.
The world's great lungs, monsoons and trade winds shew
From east to west, from west to east they blow
Alternate respiration—
The hills are pimples which earth's face defile,
And burning
AEtna, an eruptive boil:
On her high mountains
hairy forests grow,
And
downy grass o'erspreads the vales below;
From her vast body perspirations rise,
Condense in clouds and float beneath the skies.
Thus fancy, faithful servant of the heart,
Tranforms all nature by her magic art.
[Page 38]
Ev'n mighty LOVE, whose power all power controuls,
Is not, in me, like love in other souls;
Yet I have lov'd—and CUPID'S subtle dart
Hath thro' my
pericardium pierc'd my heart.
Brown CADAVERA did my soul ensnare,
Was all my thought by night and daily care;
I long'd to clasp, in her transcendant charms,
A living skeleton within my arms.
Long, lank and lean, my CADAVERA stood,
Like the tall pine, the glory of the wood;
Ofttimes I gaz'd, with learned skill to trace
The sharp edg'd beauties of her bony face:
There rose
Os frontis prominent and bold,
In deep sunk
orbits two large eye-balls roll'd,
Beneath those eye-balls, two arch'd bones were seen
Whereon two flabby cheeks hung loose and lean;
Between those cheeks, protuberant arose,
In form triangular, her lovely nose:
Like EGYPT'S pyramids, it seem'd to rise,
Scorn earth, and bid defiance to the skies;
Thin were her lips, and of a fallow hue,
Her open mouth expos'd her teeth to view;
Projecting strong, protuberant and wide
Stood
incis
[...]res—and on either side
The
canine rang'd, with many a beauteous flaw,
And last the
grinders, to fill up the jaw;
All in their
alveoli fix'd secure,
Articulated by
gomphosis sure.
Around her mouth perpetual smiles had made
Wrinkles wherein the loves and graces play'd;
There, stretch'd and rigid by continual strain,
Appear'd the
zygomatic muscles plain,
And broad
montanus o'er her peeked chin
Extended to support the heavenly grin.
In amorous dalliance oft I stroak'd her arm.
Each rising muscle was a rising charm.
O'er the
flex
[...]res my fond fingers play'd,
I found instruction with delight convey'd;
There
carpus, orbitus, and
radius too,
Were plainly felt and manifest to view.
[Page 39] No muscles on her lovely hand were seen,
But only bones envelop'd by a skin.
Long were her fingers and her knuckles bare,
Much like the claw—foot of a walnut chair.
So plain was complex
matacarpus shewn,
It might be fairly counted bone by bone.
Her slender
phalanxes were well defin'd,
And each with each by
ginglymus combin'd.
Such were the charms that did my fancy fire,
And love—chaste scientific love inspire.
At length my CADAVERA fell beneath
The fatal stroke of all subduing death:
Three days in grief—three nights in tears I spent,
And sighs incessant gave my sorrows vent.
Few are the examples of a love so true—
Ev'n from her death I consolation drew,
And in a secret hour approach'd her grave,
Resolv'd her precious corse from worms to save:
With active haste remov'd the incumbent clay,
Seiz'd the rich prize and bore my love away.
Her naked charms now lay before my sight,
I gaz'd with rapture and supreme delight,
Nor could fobrear, in ecstasy, to cry—
Beneath that shrivell'd skin what treasures lie!
Then feasted to the full my amorous soul,
And skinn'd, and cut, and slash'd without controul.
'Twas then I saw, what long I'd wish'd to see,
That heart which panted oft for love and me—
In detail view'd the form I once ador'd,
And nature's hidden mysteries explor'd.
Alas! too truly did the wise man say
That flesh is grass, and subject to decay:
Not so the bones; of substance firm and hard,
Long they remain the Anatomist's reward.
Wise nature in her providential care,
Did, kindly, bones from vile corruption spare,
That sons their fathers' skeletons might have,
And heaven born science triumph o'er the grave.
My true love's bones I boil'd—from fat and lean
These hands industrious scrap'd them fair and clean,
[Page 40] And ev'ry bone did to its place restore,
As Nature's hand had plac'd them long before;
These fingers twisted ev'ry pliant wire
With patient skill, urg'd on by strong desire.
Now what remains of CADAVERA'S mine,
Securely hanging in a case of pine.
Ofttimes I sit and contemplate her charms,
Her nodding skull and her long dangling arms,
Till quite inflam'd with passion for the dead,
I take her beauteous skeleton to bed;
There stretch'd, at length, close to my faithful side
She lies all night,—a lovely, grinning bride.—
Excuse, my friends, this detail of my love,
You must the intent, if not the tale, approve:
By facts exemplary I meant to shew
To what extent a genuine zeal will go.
A mind, so fix'd, will not be drawn aside
By vain dissentions or a partial pride;
But ev'ry hostile sentiment subdue,
And keep the ruling passion still in view.
False-delicacy—prejudices strong,
Which no distinctions know' twixt right and wrong,
Against our noble science spend their rage,
And mark the ig'norance of this vulgar age.
Time was, when living men their flesh would spare,
And to the knife their quiv'ring
nates bare,
That skilful surgeons
† noses might obtain
For noses lost—and cut and come again;—
But now the
living churlishly refuse
To give their dead relations to our use;
Talk of decorum—and a thousand whims—
Whene'er we hack their wives' or daughter's limbs:
And yet their tables daily they supply
With the rich fruits of sad mortality;
Will pick, and gut, and cook a chicken's corse,
Dissect and eat it up without remorse;
Devouring fish, flesh, fowl, whatever comes,
Nor fear the ghosts of murder'd hecatombs.
[Page 41]
Now where's the difference?—to the impartial eye
A leg of mutton and a human high
Are just the same: for surely all must own
Flesh is but flesh, and bone is only bone;
And tho' indeed, some flesh and bone may grow
To make a monkey—some to make a beau,
Still the materials are the same, we know.
Nor can our anatomic knowledge trace
Internal marks distinctive of our race.—
Whence, then, these loud complaints—these hosts of foes
Combin'd, our useful labours to oppose?
How long shall foolish prejudices reign?
And when shall reason her just empire gain?
Ah! full of danger is the up hill road,
That leads the youth to learning's high abode:
His way thick mists of vulgar errors blind,
And sneering satire follows close behind;
Sour envy strews the rugged path with thorns,
And lazy ignorance his labour scorns.
Is this a time, ye brethren of the knife,
For civil contest and internal strife?
When loud against us gen'ral clamours cry,
And persecution lifts her lash on high?
When government—that many headed beast—
Against our practice rears her horrid crest,
And, our noctural access to oppose,
Around the dead a penal barrier
* throws?
To crush our schools her awful pow'r applies,
And ev'n forbids the gibbet's just supplies.
†
Yet in this night of darkness storms and fears,
Behold one bright benignant star
‡ appears—
Long may it shine, and, ere it's course is run,
Increase, in size and splendour, to a sun!—
Methinks I see this fun of fa
[...]ure days,
Spread far abroad his
diplomatic rays—
[Page 42] See life and health submit to his control,
And like a planet,
death around him roll.
Methinks I see a stately fabric rise,
Rear'd on the skulls of these our enemies;
I see the bones of our invet'rate foes
Hang round it's walls in scientific rows.
There solemn sit the learned of the day
Dispensing death with uncontrolled sway,
And by
prescription regulate with ease
The sudden crisis or the slow disease.
Then shall physicians their millennium find,
And reign the real sov'reigns of mankind:
Then shall the face of this vile world be chang'd,
And nature's healthful laws all new arrang'd—
In min'ral powders all her dust shall rise,
And all her insects shall be Spanish flies:
In medicated potions streams shall flow,
Pills fall in hail—storms, and sharp salts in snow;
In ev'ry quagmire bolusses be found,
And slimy cataplasms spread the ground—
Nature herself assume the chymist's part,
And furnish poisons unsublim'd by art.
Then to our schools shall wealth in currents flow,
Our theatres no want of subjects know;
Nor laws nor mobs th' Anatomist shall dread,
For graves shall freely render up their dead.
THE FEDERAL CONVENTION.
CONCENTRED here th' united wisdom shines,
Of learn'd judges, and of found divines:
Patriots, whose virtues searching time has tried,
Heroes, who sought, where brother heroes died;
Lawyers, who speak, as Tully spoke before,
Sages, deep read in philosophic lore;
Merchants whose plans are to no realms confin'd,
Formers—the noblest title 'mongst mankind:
Yeomen and tradesmen, pillars of the state;
On whose decision hangs Columbia's fate.
September, 1787.
[Page 43]
ADDRESS OF THE GENIUS OF COLUMBIA, TO THE MEMBERS OF THE CONTINENTAL CONVENTION.
FROM western skies, a cloud of glory came,
A small, dim spot, a torch of lambent flame;
Ascending, widening, slow the skirts unroll'd,
Rainbow'd with fire, and warm'd with glowing gold.
There, borne by summon'd winds, in pomp sublime,
His look far-piercing down the vast of time,
Where the long, narrowing vale deserts the eye,
Unbosom'd dimly on the eternal sky,
The Genius fate. He saw, when faction spent,
No more with war his darling kingdom rent;
The stream of kindred blood forbore to flow,
And morn faint trembled o'er the night of woe;
Call'd from each sister realm, the wise and great,
In Penn's fair walls, an awful council sate;
Pois'd in their hands, Columbia's mighty sway,
And tottering laws, and rights, and freedom lay.
He saw, when fairer than the glow of even,
And bright as visions of disclosing heaven,
Full in his face a sacred splendour shone,
And the west kindled with another sun.
"All hail, my sons,"he cried,"my voice attend,
Your country's genius, guardian, guide, and friend:
The counsels mark, that faithful friend supplies,
Attend, and learn the dictates of the skies.
Before you, lo! what scenes of glory spread,
The fairest, brightest, noblest, heaven has made:
Their home, where freedom, science, virtue, find,
The last recesses of oppress'd mankind.
[Page 44] The immense of empire here, amaz'd, descry,
Where realms are lost, and hidden oceans lie;
Where Persia's vast would sink in shades conceal'd,
And Rome's proud world diminish to a field.
See, from the pole, where frozen fountains rise,
And pour their waters under torrid skies,
Where Rhines and Danubes, rills and streamlets play,
To swell the pomp of Missisippi's sea;
Where a zone's breadth majestic woods extend,
And other Andes o'er the storms ascend;
Where meadows bound the morn and evening rays;
Where plains are kingdoms, and where lakes are seas.
See thro' all climes the unmeasur'd empire run,
And drink each influence from the lingering sun;
Pure skies unbosom'd, days serenest roll,
And gales of health, from Darien fan the pole.
In each bless'd clime, to crown industrious toil;
See every product spring from every soil:
Here the fur whitens in the frozen shade;
Here flocks unnumber'd crowd the pastur'd glade;
Here threatening famine double harvests scorn—
Europe's rich grains, and India's useful corn—
Virginia's fragrant pride, huge fleets convey,
And fields of rice float cumbrous o'er the sea:
While all its wealth, the world of waters yields,
And treasures fill the subterranean fields.
These goods to waft where'er expands the wind,
To bless and to sustain the human kind,
See, stretch'd immense from Cancer to the pole,
On either side contending oceans toll;
O'er this, all Europe wings her haughty sails;
O'er that, all India wafts on spicy gales;
While bays, and streams, and lakes, her realms explore,
And land each product at each happy door.
To fill these realms, a generous race behold,
Of happiest genius, and of firmest mould;
In thoughts, in arts, in life, in language join'd,
One saith, one worship, one politic mind;
[Page 45] Patient, serene, in toils and dangers dire,
Their nerves of iron, and their souls of fire:
Call'd from all realms, these chosen sons have join'd
Expansive manners, and a genial mind,
The liberal sentiment, the adventurous thought,
With greatness teeming, and with goodness fraught;
Chain'd to no party; by no system bound;
Confining merit to no speck of ground;
Nor Britons, Frenchmen, Germans, Swiss, or Huns,
Of earth the natives, and of heaven the sons;
Regarding, loving, all the great and good,
Of every rank, clime, party, sect, and blood.
The swain, with bliss to Europe's climes unknown.
His wife, his house, his lands, his flock, his own,
Treads, independent, on the subject soil,
Prepar'd for every danger, every toil;
Prepar'd to see antarctic oceans roll,
To circle earth, and search the lonely pole;
Or thro' the immense of science wind his way,
Or lift poetic wings beyond the day;
The ridgy front of death for freedom dare,
Or, round all regions, hush the voice of war.
Heaven from all climes this happy realm conceal'd,
While wolves and Indians roam'd the bloody field,
Till human rule a soft'ning aspect wore,
Till war's black chariot ceas'd to roll in gore,
Till bigot zeal resign'd his scarlet sway,
And his dread thunders puff'd in smoke away.
Thus oh how bless'd the era of her fate,
How bright the morning, and how long the date
For now each fair improvement of the mind,
Each nobler effort lifts the human kind;
Vast means of bliss mechanic arts combine;
All liberal arts the rugged soul refine;
Freedom, and right, and law, their reign assume,
Stern power resist, and cheer the world's sad doom;
On nature's ocean, science lifts her sails,
Finds other stars, and catches nobler gales;
[Page 46] While dawning virtue beams from yonder sky,
And brighter suns arise on human joy.
Such scenes of bliss, ye sages, bless your eyes:
For men, for realms like these, your plans devise.
Be then your counsels, as your subject, great,
A world their sphere, and time's long reign their date.
Each party-view, each private good, disclaim,
Each petty maxim, each colonial aim;
Let all Columbia's weal your views expand,
A mighty system rule a mighty land;
Yourselves her genuine sons let Europe own,
Not the small agents of a paltry town.
Learn, cautious, what to alter, where to mend;
See to what close projected measures tend.
From pressing wants the mind averting still,
Thinks good remotest from the present ill:
From feuds anarchial to oppression's throne,
Misguided nations hence for safety run;
And through the miseries of a thousand years,
Their fatal folly mourn in bloody tears.
Ten thousand follies thro' Columbia spread;
Ten thousand wars her darling realms invade.
The private interest of each jealous state;
Of rule the impatience, and of law the hate.
But ah! from narrow springs these evils flow,
A few base wretches mingle general woe;
Still the same mind her manly race pervades;
Still the same virtues haunt the hallow'd shades.
But when the peals of war her centre shook,
All private aims the anxious mind forsook.
In danger's iron-bond her race was one,
Each separate good, each little view unknown.
Now rule, unsystem'd, drives the mind astray;
Now private interest points the downward way
Hence civil discord pours her muddy stream,
And fools and villains float upon the brim;
O'er all, the sad spectator casts his eye,
And wonders where the gems and minerals lie.
[Page 47]
But ne'er of freedom, glory, bliss, despond:
Uplift your eyes those little clouds beyond;
See there returning suns, with gladdening ray,
Roll on fair spring to chase this wint'ry day.
'Tis yours to bid those days of Eden shine:
First, then, and last, the federal bands entwine:
To this your every aim and effort bend:
Let all your efforts here commence and end.
O'er state concerns, let every state preside;
Its private tax controul; its justice guide;
Religion aid; the morals to secure;
And bid each private right thro' time endure.
Columbia's interests public sway demand,
Her commerce, impost, unlocated land;
Her war, her peace, her military power;
Treaties to seal with every distant shore;
To bid contending states their discord cease;
To send thro' all the calumet of peace;
Science to wing thro' every noble flight;
And lift desponding genius into light.
Thro' every state to spread each public law,
Interest must animate, and force must awe.
Persuasive dictates realms will ne'er obey;
Sway, uncoer
[...]ve, is the shade of sway.
Be then your task to alter, aid, amend;
The weak to strengthen, and the rigid bend;
The prurient lop; what's wanted to supply;
And graft new scions from each friendly sky.
Slow, by degrees, politic systems rise;
Age still refines them, and experience tries.
This, this alone consolidates, improves;
Their sinews strengthens, their defects removes;
Gives that consistence time alone can give;
Habituates men by law and right to live;
To gray-hair'd rules increasing reverence draws;
And wins the slave to love e'en tyrant laws.
But should Columbia, with distracted eyes,
See o'er her ruins one proud monarch rise:
Should vain partitions her fair realms divide,
And rival empires float on faction's tide;
[Page 48] Lo fix'd opinions 'gainst the fabric rage!
What wars, fierce passions with fierce passions wage!
From Cancer's glowing wilds, to Brunswick's shore,
Hark, how the alarms of civil discord roar!
"To arms,"the trump of kindled warfare cries,
And kindred blood smokes upward to the skies.
As Persia, Greece, so Europe bids her flame,
And smiles, with eye malignant, o'er her shame.
Seize then, oh! seize Columbia's golden hour;
Perfect her federal system, public power;
For this stupendous realm, this chosen race,
With all the improvements of all lands its base,
The glorious structure build; its breadth extend;
Its columns lift, its mighty arches bend!
Or freedom, science, arts, its stories shine,
Unshaken pillars of a frame divine;
For o'er the Atlantic wild its beams aspire,
The world approves it, and the heavens admire;
O'er clouds, and suns, and stars, its splendours rise,
Till the bright top-stone vanish in the skies."
COLUMBIA.
COLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory rise,
The queen of the world, and child of the skies!
Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendours unfold.
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time,
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;
Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name,
Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy same
To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire;
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire:
[Page 49] Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws,
Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.
Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.
New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar
To fame, unextinguish'd, when time is no more;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd,
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind;
Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring.
Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,
And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend;
The graces of form shall awake pure desire,
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire;
Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd,
And Virtue's bright image, instamp'd on the mind,
With peace, and soft rapture, shall teach life to glow,
And light up a smile in the aspect of woe.
Thy sleets to all regions thy pow'r shall display,
The nations admire, and the ocean obey;
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unsold,
And the east and the south yield their spices and gold.
As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendour shall flow,
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow;
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd,
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.
Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'er
[...] spread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively stray'd—
The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd;
The winds ceas'd to murmur; the thunder expir'd;
Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along,
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung:
"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."
[Page 50]
THE SEASONS MORALIZED.
BEHOLD the changes of the skies,
And see the circling seasons rise;
Hence, let the moral truth refin'd,
Improve the beauty of the mind.
Winter, late with dreary reign,
Rul'd the wide, unjoyous plain;
Gloomy storms with solemn roar
Shook the hoarse, resounding shore.
Sorrow cast her sadness round,
Life and joy forsook the ground,
Death, with wild imperious sway,
Bade the expiring world decay.
Now cast around thy raptur'd eyes,
And see the beauteous spring arise;
See, flow'rs invest the hills again,
And streams re-murmur o'er the plains.
Hark, hark, the joy inspiring grove
Echoes to the voice of love;
Balmy gales the sound prolong,
Wasting round the woodland song.
Such the scenes our life displays,
Swiftly fleet our rapid days;
The hour that rolls forever on,
Tells us our years must soon be gone.
Sullen Death, with mournful gloom
Sweeps us downwards to the tomb;
Life, and health, and joy decay,
Nature sinks and dies away.
[Page 51]
But the soul in gayest bloom,
Disdains the bondage of the tomb;
Ascends above the clouds of even,
And, raptur'd, hails her native heaven.
Youth, and peace, and beauty there
Forever dance around the year;
An endless joy invests the pole,
And streams of ceaseless pleasure roll.
Light, and joy, and grace divine
With bright and lasting glory shine:
Jehovah's smiles, with heav'nly ray,
Diffuse a clear, unbounded day.
ELEGY ON THE TIMES.
FIRST PRINTED AT BOSTON,
SEPT. 20TH. 1774.
OH BOSTON! late with ev'ry pleasure crown'd,
Where Commerce triumph'd on the
[...]avouring gales,
And each pleas'd eye, that rov'd in prospect round,
Hail'd thy bright spires and bless'd thy op'ning fails!
Thy plenteous marts with rich profusion smil'd;
The gay throng crouded in thy spacious streets;
From either IND thy chearful stores were fill'd;
Thy ports were gladden'd with unnumber'd sleets.
[Page 52]
For there more fair than in their native vales,
Tall groves of masts arose in beauteous pride;
The waves were whiten'd by the swelling sails,
And plenty wasted on the neighb'ring
[...]ide.
Alas, how chang'd! the swelling fails no more
Catch the fair winds and wanton in the sky;
But hostile beaks affright the guarded shore,
And pointed thunders all access deny.
Where the bold Cape its warning forehead rears,
Where tyrant Vengeance waved her magic wand,
Far from the sight each friendly vessels veers,
Calls the kind gales and sties the fatal strand.
The ruin'd merchant turn his mournful eyes
From the drear shore and desolated way;
Thy silent marts unusual glooms surprize,
And through thy streets the sons of rapine stray.
Such the dread stillness of the desert night,
When brooding horror settles on the groves;
While powers of darkness claim their hateful right,
And fierce for prey the savage tyger roves.
Along thy fields, which late in beauty shone
With lowing herd and grassy vesture fair,
The insulting tents of barbarous troops are strown,
And bloody standards stain the peaceful air.
Are these thy deeds, oh Britain? this the praise,
That points the growing lustre of thy name?
These glorious works that in thy latter days,
Gild the bright period of thine early fame?
Shall thy strong fleets, with awful sails unfurl'd,
On Freedom's shrines the unhallow'd vengeance bend?
And leave forlorn the desolated world,
Crush'd—every foe, and ruin'd—every friend:
[Page 53]
And damp'd, alas! thy soul-inspiring ray,
Where Virtue prompted and where Genius soar'd,
Or quench'd in darkness and the gloomy sway
Of Senates venal and the liveried Lord!
There shame sits blazon'd on the unmeaning brow,
And o'er the scene thy factious Nobles wait,
Prompt the mixt tumult of the noisy show,
Guide the blind vote and rule the mock debate.
To these how vain, in weary woes forlorn,
With fearful hands the fond complaint to raise,
Lift fruitful offering to the ear of Scorn—
Of servile vows and well-dissembled praise!
Will the grim savage of the nightly fold
Learn from their cries the blameless flock to spare?
Will the deaf gods, that frown in molten gold,
Bless the dup'd hand, that spreads the prostrate prayer?
With what pleas'd hope before the face of Pride,
We rear'd our suppliant eyes with filial awe;
While loud Disdain with ruffian voice reply'd,
And Injury triumph'd in the garb of Law!
While Peers enraptur'd hail the unmanly wrong,
See Ribaldry, vile prostitute of shame,
Stretch the brib'd hand and prompt the venal tongue,
To blast the laurels of a FRANKLIN'S fame!
But will the Sage, whose philosophic soul,
Controul'd the lightning in its fierce career,
Hear'd unappal'd the aërial thunders roll,
And taught the bolts of vengeance where to steer;—
Will he, while echoing to his just renown
The voice of kingdoms swells the loud applause;
Heed the weak malice of a Courtier's frown,
Or dread the coward insolence of laws?
[Page 54]
See envying Britain rends the sacred bays;
Illuded Justice pens the mock decree;
While infamy her darling scroll displays,
And points, well pleas'd, oh, WEEDERBURNE, to thee!
For nought avails the virtues of the heart,
The vengeful bolt no Muse's laurels ward;
From Britain's rage, and death's relentless dart,
No worth can save us, and no same can guard.
O'er hallow'd bounds see dire Oppression roll;
Fair Freedom buried in the whelming flood;
Nor charter'd rights the tyrant course controll,
Though seal'd by Kings and witness'd in our blood.
No more shall Justice, with unbiass'd hand,
From lawless Rapine snatch her trembling prey,
While in her balance by
supreme command
Hang the dead weights of ministerial sway.
(For taught by pain, our injur'd bosoms feel
The potent claims whence all our woes began,
And own
supreme the power, that could repeal,
Those laws of heaven, that guard the rights of man.)
In vain we hope from Britain's haughty pride
An hand to save us, or an heart to bless;
'Tis strength, our own, must stem the rushing tide,
And our own virtue yield the wish'd success.
But, oh, my friends, the arm of blood
* restrain!
(No rage intemperate aids the public weal)
No
[...] (too daring, but in vain)
The assassin's madness with the patriot's zeal.
[Page 55]
Shall the fields blush, with vital crimson stain'd,
When blind resentment marks the victim'd breast?
Will reeking life, by vengeful hands prophan'd,
Our wrongs relieve, or charm our woes to rest?
Ours be the manly firmness of the sage,
From shameless foes the ungrateful wounds to bear;
Alike remov'd from baseness and from rage,
The flames of faction, and the chills of fear.
Check the vast torrent of commercial gain,
That buys our ruin at a price so rare;
And while we scorn Britannia's servile chain,
Disdain the livery of her marts to wear.
For shall the lust of fashions and of show,
The curst idolatry of silks and lace,
Bid our proud robes insult our Country's woe,
And welcome Slav'ry in the glare of dress?
Will the blind dupe, in liveried tinsel gay,
Boast the shamed trappings, that adorn the slave?
Will the fond mourner change his sad array,
To attend in gorgeous pomp a parent's grave?
No! the rich produce of our fertile soil,
Shall cloath the neatness of our chearful train,
While heaven-born virtues bless the pious toil,
And gild the humble vestures of the plain.
No foreign labour in the Asian field
Shall weave her silks to deck the wanton age,
But, as in Rome, the surrow'd vale shall yield
The unvanquish'd Chieftain and paternal Sage.
And ye, whose heaven in ermin'd pomp to shine,
To run with joy the vain, luxurious round,
Bless the full banquet with the charms of wine,
And roll the thundering chariot o'er the ground▪
[Page 56]
For this, while guis'd in sycophantic smile,
With hearts all mindless of your country's pain,
Your flattering falshoods feed the ears of Guile,
And barter freedom for the dreams of gain!
Are these the joys, on vassal'd climes that wait—
In downs of ease luxuriant to repose,
Quaff streams nectareous in the domes of state,
And blaze in splendour of imperial shows?
No—the hard hand, the tortur'd brow of care.
The thatch-roof'd hamlet and defenceless shed,
The tatter'd garb, that meets the inclement air,
The famish'd table, and the matted bed.—
These are their fate—In vain the arm of toil
With gifts autumnal crowns the bearded plain;
In vain glad Summer prompts the genial soil,
And Spring dissolves in softening showers vain;
There savage Power extends his dismal shade,
And chill Oppression, with her frosts severe.
Sheds her dire blastings o'er the springing blade,
And robs the expecting labours of the year.
So must we sink?—and at the stern command
That bears the terrors of a tyrant's word,
Bend the crouch'd knee and raise the suppliant hand,
The scorn'd, dependant, vassals of a Lord?
The winery ravage of the storm to meet,
Brave the scorch'd vapours of the autumnal air,
Then pour the hard-earned harvest at his feet,
And beg some pittance from our pains to share?
But not for this, by heaven and virtue led,
From the mad rule of hierarchal pride,
From slavish chains our injur'd fathers fled,
And follow'd freedom on the advent'rous tide;
[Page 57]
Dar'd the wild horrors of these climes unknown,
The insidious savage, and the crimson'd plain,
To us bequeath'd the prize, their woes had won,
Nor deem'd they suffer'd, or they bled in vain.
And think'st thou, NORTH, the sons of such a race,
Where beams of glory blest their purpled morn,
Will shrink unnerv'd before a tyrant's face,
Nor meet thy louring insolence with scorn?
Look thro' the circuit of the extended shore,
That checks the surges of the Atlantic deep!
What weak eye trembles at the frown; of pow'r?
What leaden soul invites the bands of sleep?
How Goodness warms each heaven-illumin'd heart!
What generous gifts the woes of want assuage,
And sympathetic tears of pity start,
To aid the destin'd victims of thy rage!
No clamourous faction, with unhallow'd zeal,
To wayward madness wakes the impassion'd throng;
No thoughtless furies sheath their breasts with steel,
Or call the sword to avenge the oppressive wrong.
Fraternal bands with vows accordant join;
One Guardian Genius, one enrapturing Soul
Nerves the bold arm, inflames the just design,
Combines, inspires, and illumes, the whole.
Now meet the Fathers of this western clime;
Nor names more noble graced the rolls of same,
When Spartan firmness brav'd the wrecks of time,
Or Rome's bold virtues fann'd the heroic flame'
Not deeper thought th' immortal Sage inspir'd,
On Solon's lips when Grecian senates hung;
Nor manlier eloquence the bosom fir'd,
When genius thunder'd from the Athenian tongue.
[Page 58]
And hopes thy pride to match the patriot strain,
By the brib'd slave in pension'd lists enroll'd;
Or awe their councils by the voice prophane,
That wakes to utterance at the calls of gold?
Can frowns of terror da
[...]nt the warrior's deeds,
Where guilt is stranger to the ingenious heart?
Or Craft illude, where godlike Science sheds
The beams of knowledge and the gifts of art?
Go, raise thy hand, and with its magic pow'r
Pencil with night the sun's ascending ray,
Bid the broad veil eclipse the noon-tide hour,
And damps of Stygian darkness shroud the day.—
(Such night as lours o'er Britain's fated land,
Where rayless shades the darken'd throne surround;
Nor deeper glooms at Moses' waving wand,
Pour'd their thick horrors o'er the Memphian ground.)
Bid heav'n's dread thunders at thy voice expire,
Or chain the angry vengeance of the waves;
Then hope thy breath can chill th' eternal fire,
And free souls pinion with the bonds of slaves.
Thou canst not hope—Attend the flight of days,
View the bold deeds, that wait the dawning age,
Where Time's strong arm, that rules the mighty maze,
Shifts the proud actors on this earthly stage!
Then tell us, NORTH,—for thou art sure to know;
For have not kings and fortune made thee great?
Or lurks not genius in th' ennobled brow,
And dwells not wisdom in the robes of state?
Tell how the pow'rs of luxury and pride
Taint thy pure zephyrs with their poison'd breath;
How dark Corruption spreads th' envenom'd tide,
And Britain trembles on the verge of death.
[Page 59]
And tell how, rapt by Freedom's deathless flame,
And fost'ring influence of the fav'ring skies,
This Western World, the last recess of same,
Sees in her wilds a new-born empire rise:
A new-born Empire, whose ascendant hour
Defies the foes, that would its life destroy,
And like Alcides, with its infant power
Shall crush those serpents, who its rest annoy.
Then look thro' time, and with extended eye,
Pierce the deep veil of fate's obscure domain!
The morning dawns, th' effulgent star is nigh,
And crimson'd glories deck her rising reign!
Behold afar, beneath the cloud of days,
Where rest the wonders of ascending fame;
What heroes rise, immortal heirs of praise!
What fields of death with conq'ring standards flame!
See her throng'd cities warlike gates unfold!
What tow'ring armies stretch their banners wide,
Where cold Ontario's icy waves are roll'd,
Or far Altama's silver waters glide!
Lo from the groves, th' aspiring cliffs that shade,
Ascending pines the surging ocean brave,
Rise in tall masts, the floating canvas spread,
And rule the dread dominions of the wave!
Where her clear rivers pour the mazy tide,
The laughing lawns in full luxuriance bloom,
The golden harvest spreads her wanton pride,
The flow'ry garden breathes a glad perfume.
Her potent voice shall hush the storms of fate,
Where the meads blossom or the billows roar;
And cities, gay with sumptuous domes of state,
Stretch their bright turrets on the sounding shore.
[Page 60]
There mark that Coast, which seats of wealth surround,
That haven, rich with many a flowing sail,
Where mighty ships, from earth's remotest bound,
Float on the chearly pinions of the gale.
There BOSTON smiles, no more the sport of scorn,
And meanly prison'd by thy fleets no more;
And far as ocean's billowy tides are borne,
Lifts her sear'd ensigns of imperial power.
So smile the shores, where lordly Hudson strays,
(Whose floods fair YORK and proud ALBANIA lave)
Or PHILADELPHIA'S happier clime surveys
Her glist'ring spires in Schuylkyll's lucid wave.
Or southward far extend thy wond'ring eyes,
Where fertile streams the garden'd vales divide;
And mid the peopled fields distinguish'd rise
Virginian tow'rs, and Charleston's spiry pride.
Genius of arts, of manners and of arms,
See deck'd with glory and the blooms of grace,
This Virgin clime unfolds her brighter charms,
And gives her beauties to thy fond embrace
Hark, from the glades, and ev'ry list'ning spray,
What heav'n-born Muses wake th' enraptur'd song!
The vocal shades attune th' enchanting lay,
And echoing vales harmonious strains prolong.
Thro' the vast series of descending years,
That lose their currents in th' eternal wave,
Till heav'n's last trump shall rend th' affrighted spheres,
And ope each empire's everlasting grave;
Propitious skies the joyous field shall crown,
And robe her vallies in perpetual prime,
And ages blest of undisturb'd renown,
Beam their mild radiance o'er th' imperial clime.
[Page 61]
And where is BRITAIN?—In the skirt of day,
Where stormy Neptune rolls his utmost tide,
Where suns oblique diffuse a feeble ray,
And lonely waves the sated coasts divide;
Seest thou yon Isle, whose desert landscape yields
The mournful traces of the same she bore;
Where matted thorns oppress the cultur'd fields,
And piles of ruin choak the dreary shore?—
From those lov'd seats, the Virtues sad withdrew,
From fell Corruption's bold and venal hand;
Reluctant Freedom wav'd her last adieu,
And Devastation swept the vassal'd land.
On her white cliffs, the pillars once of same,
Her melancholy Genius sits to wail;
Drops the fond tear, and o'er her latest shame,
Bids dark Oblivion draw her sable veil.
AN ELEGY, On the death of Mr. BUCKINGHAM Sr. JOHN; who was drowned in his passage from New-Haven to Norwalk, May 5th, 1771.
THE world now yields to night's returning sway;
The deeper glooms lead on the solemn hour,
And call my steps, beneath the moon's pale ray,
To roam in SADNESS on the sea-beat shore.
[Page 62]
Now glide the inconstant shadows o'er the plain,
The broad moon swimming thro' the broken clouds,
The gleam of waters brightens on the main,
And anchor'd navies lift their wavering shrouds.
Deep silence reigns; save on the moory ground,
The long reed rustling to the passing gales,
The noise of dashing waves, and hollow sound
Of rushing winds, that murmur thro' the sails.
Far hence, ye pleasures of a mind at ease,
The sprightly joys, that rural scenes can yield,
When spring, led jocund by the softening breeze,
Wakes the glad morn, and robes the dewy field
Far be the giddy raptures of the gay,
The midnight joys licentious youth can share,
When ruin, smiling o'er her destin'd prey,
In sweet allurements hides the deadly snare.
Mine be the music of the rolling wave,
The moonlight shadows and surrounding gloom;
Mine the dread haunts of contemplation grave,
That lift the soul to scenes beyond the tomb.
Here while deep midnight holds her silent reign,
And fancy bears the ravish'd thought along,
Dark melancholy spreads her airy train,
And friendship calls, and grief inspires the song.
As thro' these mournful glooms I stretch'd my sight,
'Mid sounds of death, that bid the soul attend,
'Mid empty forms, and fleeting shapes of night,
Slowly I view a white-rob'd shade ascend,
That says—"I once was St. John! from the bounds
Of unknown realms beneath the dreary wave,
Where ever-restless floods, in nightly rounds,
Roll their dark surges o'er my watry grave;
[Page 63]
From seats, which ne'er to mortal sight display'd,
The gates of dread eternity surround,
In night conceal'd, and death's impervious shade,
My voice ascends: attend the warning sound!
Oh thou, attend! who flush'd with early bloom,
In life's new spring, and vernal sweetness gay,
Heedless of fate, that must thy branch entomb,
Spread'st thy green blossoms to the morning ray.
With thee how late, how like, alas! to thee;
To mortal joys, by opening youth beguil'd,
I stretch'd my airy wish, and follow'd free,
Where pleasure triumph'd, and where fancy smil'd.
Then, while fond hope her glittering pinions spread,
Pointing to climes beyond the distant wave,
*
Even then, unnotic'd, o'er my destin'd head,
Hung death's dire form, and seal'd me for the grave.
How vain the thought for many a joyous morn,
To taste of raptures unallay'd by woe!
At once from life and every other pleasure torn,
From all I wish'd, and all I lov'd below.
The faithless morning, on our opening sails,
Smil'd out serene, and smooth'd our gliding way,
While the gay vessel, fann'd by breathing gales,
Play'd on the placid bosom of the sea.
When lo, descending on the darkening wind
Burst the dire storm,—and feeble to sustain
The rushing blasts, in warring fury join'd,
The frail skiff sinks beneath the surging main.
And see, afar the oarless boat conveys
The trembling sailors to the distant shore;
Alone, of aid bereft, with one last gaze,
I sunk in deeps: and sunk to rise no more.
[Page 64]
In that sad hour, what fearful scenes arise,
What pangs distress, what unknown fears dismay!
When future worlds disclosing on our eyes,
The trembling soul forsakes the kindred day:
Before the awful bar, the Almighty throne,
In dread I've stood the Eternal Judge to see,
And fix'd in bliss, or doom'd to endless moan,
Have heard the long, the unrevers'd decree:
Nor earth must know the rest."—Where art thou now,
In youthful joys my partner and my friend;
Of those blest hours thy fortune gave below,
Of all our hopes is this the fatal end?
Ah what avail'd that energy of mind,
The heights of science, and of arts to explore,
That early led where genius unconfin'd,
Spreads her glad feast, and opes her classic store!
Ah what avail'd, in earthly bliss so frail,
The fame gay dawning on thy rising years!
Ah what avail'd,—for what could then avail?—
Thy friend's deep sorrows, or thy country's tears!
In pleasure's paths, by vivid fancy led,
'Mid every hope that blooming worth could raise,
The wings of death with fatal horror spread,
Blank'd the bright promise of thy future days.
So, from the louring west, the darken'd clouds
Rush on the sun and dim his orient ray,
And hateful night in glooms untimely shrouds
The ascending glories of the vernal day.
Adieu, my friend, so dear in vain, adieu,
Till some short days their fleeting courses roll;
Soon shall our steps thine earlier fate pursue,
Mov'd in the race, and crowding to the goal.
[Page 65]
The approaching hour shall see the sun no more,
Wheel his long course, or spread his golden ray,
Soon the vain dream of mortal life be o'er,
The brightness dawning of celestial day.
Then join'd in bliss, as once in friendship join'd,
May pitying Heaven our purer spirits raise,
Each crime aton'd, each virtue well refin'd,
To pass a blest eternity of praise!—
AMBITION.
AN ELEGY.
HENCE, gaudy Flattery, with thy siren song,
Thy fading laurels, and thy trump of praise,
Thy magic glass that cheats the wondering throng,
And bids vain men, grow vainer, while they gaze.
For what the gain, tho' nature have supplied
A tender soul, to feel the sting of pain?
That same how poor, that lifts our baseless pride,
And shews the heights our steps must ne'er attain!
How vain those thoughts that thro' creation rove,
Returning fraught with images of woe!
Those gifts how vain that please not those we love!
With grief oppress'd, how small the gain to know!
[Page 66]
And oh, that
[...] in life's sequester'd shade,
Had fix'd the limits of my silent way,
Far from the scenes in noisy pomp array'd,
Where hope and fame but flatter to betray.
The lark had call'd me at the birth of dawn,
My cheerful toils and rural sports to share;
Nor when mild evening glimmer'd on the lawn,
Had sleep been frighted at the voice of care.
So the soft flocks in harmless pleasure stray,
Or sport in rapture on the flowery mead,
Enjoy the beauties of the vernal day,
And no sad prescience tells them they must bleed
Then wild ambition ne'er had swell'd my heart,
Nor had my stept pursued the road to fame;
Thou ne'er had slander rais'd the envenom'd dart,
Nor hung in vengeance o'er my hated name.
Nor views of bliss that never must be mine,
Urg'd the fond tear or swell'd the bursting sigh;
Nor tenderest pangs had bid my soul repine,
Nor torture warn'd me that my hopes must die.
F
[...]ewel, ye glittering phantoms of the mind,
The golden vision, or ambitious dream,
The fickle forms by fairy fancy join'd,
The pride of laurels and the muse's theme.
Vain hope, adieu
[...] thou dear deluding cheat,
Whose magic charm can
[...] the bonds of pain;
[...] decoy'd, we clasp the gay deceit,
And plan the scenes of future joys in vain.
[...] Sadness! come mild sister of Despair,
[...] helpless
[...] l
[...]st support and friend,
[...] scenes
[...] sooth the wretch's care,
Where life's false joys, and life itself, must end!
[Page 67]
Well pleas'd, I wander o'er the solemn ground,
Where Death in horror holds his
[...] domain,
While
[...] sits gloomy in the
[...] round,
And swimming vapours cloud the dreary plain.
Ye ghosts, the tenants of the evening skies,
That sweep in sadness o'er the dust, vale,
Enrob'd in mists, I see your forms arise;
I hear your voices sounding in the gale!
Of life ye speak, and life's fantastic toys,
How vain the wish, that grasps at
[...] below!
How disappointment lours on all our
[...]
And hope bequeaths the legacy of woe!
Ye too, perhaps, while youth supplied its beam,
On fancy's pinions soaring to the sky,
Fed your deluded thoughts with many a dream,
Of love and
[...]ame, and future scenes of joy.
Like your's how soon our empty years shall fade,
Past, like the vapours that in clouds
[...]
Past, like the forms that slit along the
[...]
Ourselves as worthless, and as vain as they!
Here the kind haven greets our weary sail,
When the rude voyage of troubled life is o'er,
Safe from the stormy blast, the faithless gale,
The gulphs that threaten, and the waves that roar.
The heart no more the pains of love shall share,
Nor torturing grief the wayward
[...] enslave,
Thro' toil—worn years fatigued with restless care,
Peace, sought in vain, awaits us in the grave.
Nor peace, alone! death breaks the sullen gloom,
That
[...] the portals of e
[...]nal day.
[...] the freed soul her nobler powers
[...]
And wing from woes her heaven directed way.
[Page 68]
Fly hence ye shades! ye brighter scenes arise!
Ye joys celestial, opening on my view!
Vanish, ye griefs, that dwell beneath the skies,
Ye streaming tears, ye fond complaints, adieu!
A SONG.
LOOK, lovely maid, on yonder flow'r,
And see that busy fly,
Made for the enjoyment of an hour,
And only born to die.
See, round the rose he lighty moves,
And wantons in the sun,
His little life in joy improves,
And lives, before 'tis gone.
From this instinctive wisdom, learn,
The present hour to prize;
Nor leave to-day's supreme concern,
'Till morrow's morn arise.
Say, lov'liest fair, canst thou divine
That morrow's hidden doom?
Know'st thou, if cloudless skies will shine,
Or heaven be wrapt in gloom?
Fond man, the trifle of a day,
Enjoys the morning light,
Nor knows, his momentary play
Must end, before 'tis night.
[Page 69]
The present joys are all we claim;
The past are in the tomb;
And, like the poet's dream of fame,
The future never come.
No longer then, fair maid, delay
The promis'd scenes of bliss;
Nor idly give another day,
The joys assign'd to this.
If
then my breast can soothe thy care,
Twill
now that care allay:
If joy this hand can yield, my fair,
'Twill yield that joy to-day.
Quit then, oh quit! thou lovely maid,
Thy bashful, virgin pride;
To-day the happy plot be laid,
The bands, to-morrow, tied!
The purest joys shall be our own,
That e'er to man were giv'n;
And those bright scenes, on earth begun,
Shall brighter shine in heaven.
THE CRITICS.
A FABLE.
Written September 1785.
'To every general rule there are exceptions.'
COMMON SENSE.
'TIS said of every dog that's found,
Of mongrel, spaniel, cur, and hound;
[Page 70] That each sustains a doggish mind,
And hates the new, sublime, refin'd.
'Tis hence the wretches bay the moon,
In beauty throned at highest noon;
Hence every nobler brute they bite,
And hunt the stranger-dog with spite;
And hence, the nose's dictates parrying,
They fly from meat to feed on carrion.
'Tis also said, the currish soul
The critic race possesses whole;
As near they come, in thoughts and natures,
As two legg'd can, to four legg'd creatures;
Alike the things they love and blame,
Their voice, and language, much the same.
The Muse this subject made her theme,
And told me in a morning dream.
Such dreams you sages may decry;
But Muses know they never lie.
Then hear, from me, in grave narration,
Of these strange facts, the strange occasion.
In Greece Cynethe's village lay,
Well known to all, who went that way,
For dogs of every kindred famed,
And from true doggish manners named.
One morn, a greyhound pass'd the street;
At once the soul-mouth'd conclave met,
Huddling around the stranger ran,
And thus their smart
review began.
"What tramper"with a grinning sneer,
Bark'd out the clumsy cur,"is here?
No native of the town, I see;
Some foreign whelp of base degree.
I'd shew, but that the record's torn,
We true Welsh curs are better born.
His coat is smooth; but longer hair
Would more become a dog by far.
His slender ear, how strait and sloping!
While ours is much improved by
cropping."
"Right,"cried the blood-hound,"that strait ear
Seems made for nothing, but to hear;
[Page 71] 'Tis long agreed, thro' all the town,
That handsome ears, like mine, hang down;
And tho' his body's gaunt, and round,
'Tis no true rawboned gaunt of hound.
How high his nose the creature carries!
As if on bags, and flies, his fare is;
I'll teach this strutting stupid log,
To smell's the business of a dog."
"Baugh-waugh!"the shaggy spaniel cried,
"What wretched covering on his hide!
I wonder where he lives in winter;
His strait, sleek legs too, out of joint are:
I hope the vagrant will not dare
His fledging with my fleece compare.
He never plung'd in pond or river,
To search for wounded duck and diver;
By kicks would soon be set a skipping,
Nor take, one half so well, a whipping."
"Rat me,"the lap dog yelp'd,"thro' nature,
Was ever seen so coarse a creature?
I hope no lady's sad mishap
E'er led the booby to her lap;
He'd fright PRIMRILLA into fits,
And rob FOOLERIA of her wits;
A mere barbarian, Indian whelp!
How clownish, countryish, sounds his yelp!
He never tasted bread and butter,
Nor play'd the petty squirm and flutter;
Nor e'er, like me, has learn'd to satten,
On kisses sweet, and softest patting."
"Some parson's dog, I vow,"whined puppy;
"His rusty coat how sun-burnt! stop ye!"
The beagle call'd him to the wood.
The bull-dog bellowed,"Zounds! and blood!"
The wolf-dog and the mastiff were,
The Muse says, an exception here;
Superior both to such foul play,
They wish'd the stranger well away.
From
spleen the
strictures rose to
sury,
"Villain,"growl'd one,"I can't endure you."
[Page 72] "Let's seize the truant,"snarl'd another,
Encored by every soul-mouth'd brother.
"'Tis done,"bark'd all,"we'll mob the creature,
And sacrifice him to ill-nature."
The greyhound, who despised their breath,
Still thought it best to shun their teeth.
Easy he wing'd his rapid flight,
And left the scoundrels not of sight.
Good JUNO, by the ancients holden,
The genuine
notre-dame of scolding,
Sate pleased, because there'd such a fuss been,
And in the hound's place wish'd her husband;
For here, even pleasure bade her own,
Her ladyship was once out-done.
"Hail dogs,"she cried,"of every kind!
Retain ye still this snarling mind,
Hate all that's good, and fair, and new,
And I'll a goddess be to you.
Nor this the only good you prove;
Learn what the fruits of JUNO'S love.
Your souls, from forms, that creep all four on,
I'll raise, by system Pythagorean,
To animate the human frame,
And gain my favourite tribe a name.
Be ye henceforth (so I ordain)
Critics, the genuine curs of men.
To snarl be still your highest bliss,
And all your criticism like this.
Whate'er is great, or just, in nature,
Of graceful form, or lovely feature;
Whate'r adorns the ennobled mind,
Sublime, inventive, and refin'd;
With spleen, and spite, forever blame,
And load with every dirty name.
All things of noblest kind and use.
To your own standard vile reduce,
And all in wild confusion blend,
Nor
heed the
subject, scope, or
end.
[Page 73] But chief, when
modest young beginners,
'Gainst
critic laws, by
nature sinners,
Peep out in verse, and dare to run,
Thro' towns and villages your own,
Hunt them, as when you stranger dog
Set all your growling crew agog;
Till stunn'd, and scar'd, they hide from view,
And leave the country clear for you."
This said, the goddess kind caressing,
Gave every cur a double blessing.
Each doggish mind, tho' grown no bigger,
Henceforth assumed the human figure,
The body walk'd on two; the mind
To four, still chose to be confin'd;
Still creeps on earth, still scents out foes,
Is still led onward by the nose;
Hates all the good, it used to hate,
The lofty, beauteous, new, and great;
The stranger hunts with spite quintessent,
And snarls, from that day to the present.
EPISTLE TO COLONEL HUMPHREYS.
FROM realms, where nature sports in youthful prime,
Where Hesper lingers o'er his darling clime,
Where sunny genius lights his sacred flame,
Where rising science casts her morning beam,
Where empire's final throne in pomp ascends,
Where pilgrim Freedom finds her vanish'd friends,
The world renews, and man from eastern fires,
Phoenix divine, again to Heaven aspires,
[Page 74] Health to my friend this happy verse conveys,
His fond attendant o'er the Atlantic seas.
Health to my friend let every wish prolong;
Be this the burden of each artless song;
This in the prayer of every morn arise;
Thou angel guardian, waft it to the skies!
His devious course let fostering Heaven survey;
Nor
[...] beside, nor foes arrest his way.
Nor health alone—may bliss thy path attend;
May truth direct thee, and may peace befriend;
From virtue's fount thy taintless actions flow;
The shield of conscience blunt the dart of woe;
To rising bliss refin'd above alloy,
Where budding wishes blossom into joy,
Where glory dwells, where saints and seraphs sing,
Let Heaven, in prospect, tempt thy lifted wing.
Me the same views, the same soft tide of cares,
Bear gently onward down the stream of years,
Still the same duties call my course along;
Still grows, at times, the pain-deluding song;
Still scenes domestic earthly joys refine,
Where blest Maria mingles cares with mine;
The same fond circle still my life endears,
Where Fairfield's elms, or Stamford's groupe appears;
Or where, in rural guise, around me smile
Mansions of peace, and Greenfield's beauteous hill;
Still to my cot the friend delighted hies,
And one lov'd parent waits beneath the skies.
To thee, far summon'd from each native scene,
With half the breadth of this wide world between,
How bless'd the news my happy verse conveys,
Of friends, divided by interfluent seas?
Health, peace, and competence, their walks surround,
On the bright margin of yon beauteous Sound;
Where Hartford sees the first of waters glide,
Or where thy Avon winds his silver tide.
Yet thou must mourn a friend,
* a brother dear,
And o'er departed merit drop a tear.
[Page 75] Him sense illum'd, the hero's warmth inspir'd,
Grace taught to please, and patriot virtue fir'd;
Alike in peace, in war, at home, abroad,
Worth gain'd him honour, where his footsteps trode;
Yet all in vain: his laurel'd garlands bloom;
But waste their beauty on the untimely tomb.
Meantime, invited o'er the Atlantic tide,
Where arts refin'd allure thy feet aside,
May'st thou, unmov'd by splendour's painted charms,
And steel'd, when pleasure smiling spreads her arms,
The great simplicity of soul retain,
The humble fear of Heaven, and love of man.
When round thy course temptations sweetly throng,
When warbling sirens chant the luscious song,
When wealth's fair bubble beams its hues a far,
When grandeur calls thee to her golden car,
When pleasure opes the bosom bright of joy,
And the dy'd serpent gazes to destroy;
Oh! may the heavenly Guide thy passions warm,
Up virtue's hills thy feet resistless charm,
Shew thee what crowns reward the glorious strife,
And quicken fainting duty into life.
Oft has thine eyes, with glance indignant seen
Columbia's youths, unfolding into men,
Their minds to improve, their manners to adorn,
To Europe's climes by fond indulgence borne;
Oft hast thou seen those youths, at custom's shrine,
Victims to pride, to folly, and to sin,
Of worth bereft, of real sense forlorn,
Their land forget, their friends, their freedom spurn;
Each noble cause, each solid good desert,
For splendour happiness, and truth for art;
The plain, frank manners of their race despise,
Fair without fraud, and great without disguise;
Where, thro' the life the heart uncover'd ran,
And spoke the native dignity of man.
For these, the gain let Virtue blush to hear,
And each sad parent drop the plaintive tear!
Train'd in soul stews, impoison'd by the stage,
Hoyl'd into gaming, key
[...] into age,
[Page 76] To smooth hypocrisy by Stanhope led,
To truth
[...]n alien, and to virtue dead,
Swoln with an English butcher's four disdain,
Or to a fribble dwindled from a man,
Homeward again behold the jackdaw run,
And yield his fire the ruins of a son!
What tho' his mind no thought has e'er perplex'd,
Converse illum'd, or observations vex'd;
Yet here, in each debate, a judge he shines,
Of all, that man enlarges, or refines;
Religion, science, politics, and song;
A prodigy his parts; an oracle his tongue.
Ope wide your mouths; your knees in homage bend;
Hist! hist! ye mere Americans attend;
While Curl discloses to the raptur'd view
What Peter, Paul, and Moses, never knew;
The light of new-born wisdom sheds abroad,
And adds a
* leanto
[...]o the word of God.
What Creole wretch shall dare, with home-made foils,
Attack opinions, brought three thousand miles;
Sense, in no common way to mortals given,
But on Atlantic travellers breath'd by Heaven;
A head,
en queue, by Monsieur Frizzle dress'd;
Manners, a Paris tailor's arts invest;
Pure criticism, form'd from
acted plays;
And graces, that would even a Stanhope grace?
Commercial wisdom, merchants here inhale
From him, whose eye hath seen the unfinish'd bale;
Whose fee, have pass'd the shop, where pins were sold,
The wire was silver'd, and the heads were roll'd!
Conven'd, ye lawyers, make your humblest leg!
Here stands the man has seen Lord Mansfield's wig!
Physicians hush'd, hear Galen's lips distil,
From Buchan's contents, all the Art to heal!
Divines, with reverence cease your scripture whims,
And learn this male Minerva's moral schemes;
[Page 77] Schemes theologic found in D
[...]ury-lane,
That prove the bible false, and virtue vain!
Heavens! shall a child in learning, and in wit,
O'er Europe's climes, a bird of passage
[...]lit;
There, as at home, his stripling self unknown,
By novel wonders stupified to stone,
Shut from the wise, and by no converse taught,
No well-read day, nor hour of serious thought,
His head by pleasure, vice, and hurry, turn'd,
All prudence trampled, all improvements spurn'd;
Shall he, with less of Europe in his cap,
Than satche
[...]l'd school-boy guesses from the map,
On every subject struttingly decree,
Ken the far shore, and search the unfathom'd sea,
Where learning has her lamp for ages oil'd,
Where Newton ponders, and where Berkeley toil'd?
Of all the plagues, that rise in human shape,
Good Heaven, preserve us from the travell'd Ape!
"Peace to all such:"
† but were there one, whose mind
Bold genius wing'd, and converse pure, refin'd,
By nature prompted science' realms to roam,
And both her Indies bring with rapture home;
Who men, and manners, search'd with eagle eye,
Exact to weigh, and curious to descry:
Himself who burnish'd with the hand of care,
Till kings might boast so bright a gem to wear;
Should he, deep plung'd in Circe's sensual bowl,
Imbrue his native manliness of soul,
With eye estrang'd, from fair Columbia turn,
Her youth, her innocence, and beauty scorn;
To that foul harlot, Europe, yield his mind,
Witch'd by her smiles, and to her snares resign'd;
To nature's bloom prefer the rouge of art,
A tinsell'd outside to a golden heart,
Show, to the bliss by simple freedom given,
To virtue, Stanhope, and Voltaire to Heaven;
Who but must wish, the apostate youth to see?
Who but must agonize, were Humphreys he?
[Page 78] But all thy soul shall 'scape, the escape to aid,
Fair to thy view be every motive spread.
Of each gay cause the dire effects survey,
And bring the painted tomb disclos'd to day.
Tho' there proud pomp uprears his throne on high;
Tho' there the golden palace lights the sky;
Tho' wealth unfolds her gay, Edenian fears,
Her walk of grandeur, and her wild of sweets;
The stage, the park, the ring, the dance, the feast,
Charm the pall'd eye, and lure the loathing caste;
Yet there fierce war unceasing sounds alarms;
Pride blows the trump, and millions rush to arms;
See steel and
[...]e extinguish human good;
See realms manur'd with corses, and with blood!
At slaughter's shrine expires the new born joy,
And all Jehovah's bounty fiends destroy.
See the huge jail in gloomy grandeur rise,
Low'r o'er mankind, and mock the tempted skies!
Hear the chain clank! the bursting groan attend!
And mark the neighbouring gibbe
[...]'s pride ascend.
See earth's fair face insatiate luxury spoils!
For one poor tyrant, lo, a province toils!
To brothels, half the female world is driven,
Lost to themselves, and reprobates of heaven.
There too refinement glances o'er the mind;
And nought but vice, and outside, is refin'd;
To vice auspicious, brilliant manners blend,
The waxen saint, and sinner, foe, and friend,
Melt from the soul each virtue, as they shine,
And warm the impoison'd blossom into sin.
In fair Columbia's realms, how chang'd the plan;
Where all things bloom, but, first of all things, man!
Lord of himself, the independent swain,
Sees no superior stalk the happy plain:
His house, his herd, his harvest all his own,
His farm a kingdom, and his chair a throne.
Unblench'd by foul hypocrisy, the soul
Speaks in her face, and bids his acc
[...]nts roll;
(Her wings unclipp'd) with fire instinctive warms,
Strong pulses
[...], and bold conceptions forms:
[Page 79] At noblest objects aims her slight supreme,
The purpose vast, and enterprize extreme.
Hence round the pole her sons exalt the sail,
Search southern seas, and rouse the Falkland whale;
Or on bold pinions hail the Asian skies,
And bid new stars in spicy oceans rise.
Hence in bright arms her chiefs superior flame,
Even now triumphant on the steep of fame,
Where Vernon's Hero mounts the throne sublime,
And sees no rival grace the reign of time.
Hence countless honours rising Med'cine claims;
Hence Law presents her constellated names;
The Sacred Science sees her concave bright
Instarr'd, and beauteous, with the sons of light:
Hence Edwards cheer'd th
[...] world with moral day,
And Franklin walk'd, unhurt, the realms where lightnings play.
Mechanic genius hence exalts his eye,
All powers to measure, and all scenes descry,
Bids Rittenhouse the heavenly system feign,
And Bushnell search the chambers of the main.
Hence too, where Trumbull leads the ardent throng,
Ascending bards begin the immortal song:
Let glowing friendship wake the cheerful lyre,
Blest to commend, and pleas'd to catch the fire.
Be theirs the same, to bards how rarely given!
To fill with worth the part assign'd by Heaven:
Distinguish'd actors on life's busy stage,
Lov'd by mankind, and useful to the age;
While science round them twines her vernal bays,
And sense directs, and genius fires their lays.
While this fair land commands thy feet to roam,
And, all Columbian, still thou plann'st for home,
From those bright sages, with whose mission join'd,
Thou seek'st to build the interests of mankind,
Experience, wisdom, honour, may'st thou gain,
The zeal for country, and the love of man.
There thro' the civil science may'st thou run;
There learn how empires are preserv'd, or won;
[Page 80] How arts politic wide dominions sway;
How well-train'd navies bid the world obey;
How war's imperial car commands the plain,
Or rolls majestic o'er the subject main;
Thro' earth, how commerce spreads a softer sway,
And Gallia's sons negociate realms away.
Then, crown'd with every gift, and grace, return,
To add new glories to the western morn;
With sages, heroes, bards, her charms display,
Her arts, arms, virtues, and her happy sway;
Bid o'er the world her constellation rise,
The brightest splendour in the unmeasur'd skies;
Her genial influence thro' all nations roll,
And hush the sound of war from pole to pole.
And oh, may he, who still'd the stormy main,
And lightly wing'd thee o'er the glassy plain,
Thro' life's rough-billow'd sea, with kinder gales,
With skies serener, and with happier sails,
Each shoal escap'd, afar each tempest driven,
And nought but raptures round the enchanted Heaven,
To bliss, fair shore, thy prosperous course convey,
And join my peaceful bark, companion of thy way.
GREENFIELD, 1785.
SKETCHES OF AMERICAN HISTORY.
THE American world, as our histories say,
Secluded from Europe long centuries lay,
But peopled by beings whom white men detest,
The sons of the Tartars that came from the west.
These Indians, 'tis certain, were here long before ye all,
And dwelt in their wigwams from time immemorial;
[Page 81] In a mere state of nature, untutor'd, untaught,
They did as they pleas'd and they spoke as they thought:
No priests they had then for the cure of their souls,
No lawyers, recorders, nor keepers of rolls;
No learned physicians vile nostrums conceal'd—
Their druggist was nature—her shop was the field.
In the midst of their forests how happy and blest,
In the skin of a bear or a buffaloe drest!
No care to perplex, and no luxury seen
But the feast, and the song, and the dance on the green,
Some bow'd to the moon, and some worshipp'd the sun,
And the king and the captain were center'd in one;
In a cabin, they met, on their councils of state,
Where age and experience alone might debate:
With quibbles they never essay'd to beguile,
And nature had taught them the orator's stile;
No pomp they affected, nor quaintly refin'd
The nervous idea that glanc'd on the mind.
When hunting or battle invited to arms,
The women they left to take care of their farms—
The toils of the summer did winter repay,
While snug in their cabins they snor'd it away.
If Death came among them, his dues to demand,
They still had some prospect of comfort at hand—
The dead man they sent to the regions of bliss,
With his bottle and dog and his fair maids to kiss.
Thus happy they dwelt in a rural domain.
Uninstructed in commerce, unpractic'd in gain,
Till, taught by the loadstone to traverse the seas,
Columbus came over, that bold Genoese.
From records authentic, the date we can show,
One thousand four hundred ninety and two
Years, borne by the seasons, had vanish'd away,
Since the babe in the manger at Bethlehem lay.
What an era was this, above all that had pass'd,
To yield such a treasure, discover'd at last—
A new world, in value exceeding the old,
Such mountains of silver, such torrents of gold!
[Page 82] Yet the schemes of Columbus, however well plann'd,
Were scarely sufficient to find the main land;
On the islands alone with the natives he spoke,
Except when he enter'd the great Oronoque:
In this he resembled old Moses, the Jew,
Who, roving about with his wrong-headed crew,
When at length the reward was no longer deny'd,
From the top of mount Pisgah he saw it, and dy'd.
These islands and worlds in the wat'ry expanse,
Like most mighty things, were the offspring of chance,
Since, steering for Asia, Columbus, they say,
Was astonish'd to find such a world in his way:
No wonder, indeed, he was smit with surprise—
This empire of nature was new to their eyes—
Cut short in their course by so splendid a scene,
Such a region of wonders intruding between!
Yet great as he was, and deserving, no doubt,
We have only to thank him for finding the route;
These climes to the northward, more stormy and cold,
Were reserv'd for the efforts of Cabot the bold.
Where the sun in December appears to decline,
Far off to the southward, and south of the line,
A merchant of Florence,
‡ more fortunate still,
Explor'd a new track, and discover'd Brazil:
Good fortune, Vespucius, pronounc'd thee her own,
Or else to mankind thou hadst scarcely been known—
By giving thy name, thou art ever renown'd—
Thy name to a world that another had found!
Columbia the name was, that merit decreed,
But Fortune and Merit have never agreed—
Yet the poets, alone, with commendable care,
Are vainly attempting the wrong to repair.
The bounds I prescribe to my verse are too narrow,
To tell of the conquests of Francis Pizarro;
[Page 83] And Cortez 'tis needless to bring into view,
One Mexico conquer'd, the other Peru.
Montezuma with credit in verse might be read,
But Dryden has told you the monarch
* is dead!
And the woes of his subjects—what torments they bore
Las Casas, good bishop, has mention'd before;
Let others be fond of their stanzas of grief—
I hate to descant on the fall of the leaf—
Two scenes are so gloomy, I view them with pain,
The annals of Death, and the triumphs of Spain.
Poor Ata-bualpa I cannot forget—
He gave them his utmost, yet died in their debt,
His wealth was a crime, that they could not forgive,
And when they possess'd it—forbade him to live.
Foredoom'd to misfortunes (that came not alone)
He was the twelfth Inca that sat on the throne,
Who fleecing his brother
† of half his domains,
At the palace of Cusco confin'd him in chains.
But what am I talking—or where do I roam?
'Tis time that our story was brought nearer home—
From Florida's cape did Cabot explore
To the fast frozen regions of cold Labradore.
In the year fourteen hundred and ninety and eight
He came, as the annals of England relate:
But finding no gold in the lengthy domain,
And coasting the country, he left it again.
Next Davis—then Hudson adventur'd, they say,
One found out a streight, and the other a bay,
Whose desolate region, or turbulent wave
One present bestow'd him—and that was a grave.
In the reign of a virgin (whom some call'd a w—)
Drake, Hawkins, and Raleigh in squadrons came o'er—
While Barlow and Grenville succeeded to these,
Who all brought their colonies over the seas.
These, left in a wilderness teeming with woes,
The natives, suspicious, concluded them foes,
[Page 84] And murder'd them all without notice or warning,
Ralph Lane with his vagabonds, scarcely returning.
In the reign of king James (and the first of the name)
George Summers with Hacluit to Chesapeake came,
Where far in the forests, not doom'd to renown,
Twelve years after this some scores of dissenters
To the northernmost district, came seeking adventures;
Outdone by the bishops, those great faggot fighters,
They left them to hell with their cassocks and mitres.
Thus banish'd forever, and leaving the sod,
The first land they saw was the pitch of Cape Cod,
Where, famish'd with hunger, and quaking with cold,
They plann'd their new Plymouth—so call'd from the old.
They were, without doubt, a delightful collection;
—Some came to be rid of a Stuart's direction;
Some sail'd with a view to dominion and riches,
Some to pray without book, and a few to hang witches;
Some came, on the Indians to shed a new light,
Convinc'd, long before, that their own must be right,
And that all, who had died in the centuries past,
On the devil's lee shore were eternally cast.
These exiles were cast in a whimsical mould,
And were aw'd by their priests, like the Hebrews of old;
Disclaim'd all pretences to jesting and laughter,
And sigh'd their lives through to be happy hereafter.
On a crown immaterial their hearts were intent,
They look'd towards Zion, wherever they went,
Did all things in hope of a future reward,
And worry'd mankind—for the sake of the Lord.
[Page 85] With rigour excessive they strengthen'd their reign,
Their laws were conceiv'd in the ill-natur'd strain;
With mystical meanings the saint was perplext,
And the flesh and the devil were slain by a text,
The body was scourg'd, for the good of the soul,
All folly discourag'd by peevish control,
A knot on the head was the sign of no grace,
And the pope and his comrade were pictur'd in lace.
A stove in their churches, or pews lin'd with green,
Were horrid to think of, much more to be seen.
Their bodies were warm'd with the linings of love,
And the fire was sufficient that flash'd from above.
'Twas a crime to assert, that the moon was opaque;
To say the earth mov'd, was to merit the stake;
And he, that could tell an eclipse was to be,
In the college of satan had ta'en his degree.
On Sundays their faces were dark as a cloud—
The road to the meeting was only allow'd;
And those they caught rambling, on bus'ness or pleasure,
Were sent to the stocks, to repent at their leisure.
This day was the mournfullest day in the week:
Except on religion, none ventur'd to speak:
This day was the day to examine their lives,
To clear off old scores, and to preach to their wives.
In the school of oppression though woefully taught.
'Twas only to be the oppressors they sought;
All, all but themselves, were be-devil'd and blind,
And their narrow-soul'd creed was to serve all mankind.
This beautiful system of nature below
They neither consider'd, nor wanted to know,
And call'd it a dog-house wherein they were pent,
Unworthy themselves, and their mighty descent.
They never perceiv'd, that in nature's wide plan,
There must be that whimsical creature, call'd man,
Far short of the rank he affects to attain,
Yet a link in its place, in creation's vast chain.
Whatever is foreign to us and our kind,
Can never be lasting, though seemingly join'd—
[Page 86] The hive swarm'd at length, and a tribe that was teaz'd,
Set out for Rhode-Island, to think as they pleas'd.
Some hundreds to Britain ran murmuring home—
While others went off in the forests to roam,
When they found they had mist what they look'd for at first,
The down
[...]al of sin, and the reign of the just.
Hence, dry controversial reflexions were thrown.
And the old dons were vex'd in the way they had shown;
So those, that are held in the work-house all night,
Throw dirt the next day at the doors, out of spite.
Ah, pity the wretches that liv'd in those days,
(Ye modern admirers of novels and plays)
When nothing was suffer'd but musty, dull rules,
And nonsense from Mather, and stuff from the schools.
No story, could tempt them, like Rachel's, to sigh,
[...] and Judith employ'd the bright eye—
No fine-spun adventures tormented the breast,
Like our modern Clarissa, Tom Jones, and the rest,
Those tyrants had chosen the books for your shelves,
(And, trust me, no other than suited themselves,
For always by this may a bigot be known,
He speaks well of nothing but what is his own.)
From indwelling evil these souls to release,
The quakers arriv'd, with their kingdom of peace—
But some were transported, and some
[...] the lash,
And four they hang'd fairly for preaching up thrash.
The lands of New England (of which we now treat)
Were famous, ere that, for producing of
[...];
But the soil (or tradition says strangely amiss)
[...]
Has been pester'd with pumpkins from that day to this,
Thus, feuds and vexations distracted their reign,
(And perhaps a few vestiges still may remain.)
But time has presented an offspring as bold,
[...] free to believe, and more wise than the old.
Their phantoms, their wizzards, their witches are fled—
Matthew Paris's story with horror is read—
[Page 87] His daughters, and all the enchantments they bore—
And the demon that pinch'd them, are heard of no more.
Their taste for the fine arts is strangely increas'd,
And Latin's no longer a mark of the beast;
Mathematics, at present, a farmer may know,
Without being hang'd for connexions below.
Proud, rough, independent, undaunted and free,
And patient of hardships, their task is the sea;
Their country too barren their wish to attain,
They make up the loss by exploring the main.
Wherever bright Phoebus awakens the gales,
I see the bold Yankees expanding their sails,
Throughout the wide ocean pursuing their schemes,
And chasing the whales on its uttermost streams.
No climate, for them, is too cold or too warm,
They reef the broad canvass, and fight with the storm;
In war with the foremost their standards display,
Or glut the loud cannon with death, for the fray.
No valour, in fable, their valour exceeds,
Their spirits are fitted for desperate deeds;
No rivals have they in our annals of same,
Or if they are rivall'd, 'tis York has the claim.
Inspir'd at the sound, while the name she repeats,
Bold Fancy conveys me to Hudson's retreats—
Ah, sweet recollection of juvenile dreams
In the groves, and the forests that skirted his streams!
How often, with rapture, those streams were survey'd,
When, sick of the city, I flew to the shade—
How often the bard, and the peasant shall mourn
Ere those groves shall revive, and those shades shall return!
Not a hill, but some fortress disfigures it round!
And ramparts are rais'd where the cottage was found!
The plains and the vallies with ruin are spread,
With graves in abundance, and bones of the dead.
[Page 88] The first that attempted to enter this streight,
(In anno one thousand six hundred and eight),
Was Hudson (the same that we mention'd before,)
Who was lost in the gulph that he went to explore.
For a sum that they paid him (we know not how much)
This captain transferr'd all his right to the Dutch;
For the time has been here, to the world be it known,
When all a man sail'd by, or saw, was his own.
The Dutch on their purchase sat quietly down,
And fix'd on an island to lay out a town;
They modell'd their streets from the horns of a ram,
And the name that bost pleas'd them was New Amsterdam,
They purchas'd large tracts from the Indians for beads,
And sadly tormented some runaway Swedes,
Who, none knows for what, from their country had slown
To live here in peace undisturb'd and alone.
New Belgin, the Dutch call'd their province, be sure,
But names never yet made possession secure;
For Charly (the second that honour'd the name)
Sent over a squadron, asserting his claim.
(Had his sword and title been equally slender,
In vain had they summon'd Mynheer to surrender)
The soil they demanded or threaten'd their worst,
Insisting that Cabot had look'd at it first.
The want of a squadron to fall on their rear,
Made the argument perfectly plain to Mynheer—
Force ended the contest—the right was a sham,
And the Dutch were sent packing to hot Surinam.
'Twas hard to be thus of their labours deprived,
But the age of republics had not yet arriv'd—
Fate saw—tho' no wizzard could tell them as much,
—That the crown, in due time, was to fare like the Dutch.
[Page 89]
DESCRIPTION OF THE FIRST AMERICAN CONGRESS.
COLUMBUS looked; and still around them spread,
From south to north, th' immeasurable shade;
At last, the central shadows burst away,
And rising regions open'd on the day.
He saw, once more, bright Del'ware's silver stream,
And Penn's throng'd city cast a cheerful gleam;
The dome of state, that met his eager eye,
Now heav'd its arches in a loftier sky.
The bursting gates unfold: and lo, within,
A solemn train, in conscious glory, shine.
The well-known forms his eye had trac'd before,
In diff'rent realms along th' extended shore;
Here, grac'd with nobler fame, and rob'd in slate,
They look'd and mov'd magnificently great.
High on the foremost seat, in living light,
Majestic Randolph caught the hero's sight:
Fair on his head, the civic crown was plac'd,
And the first dignity his sceptre grac'd.
He opes the cause, and points in prospect far,
Thro' all the toils that wait th' impending war—
But, hapless sage, thy reign must soon be o'er,
To lend thy lustre, and to shine no more.
So the bright morning star, from shades of ev'n,
Leads up the dawn, and lights the front of heav'n,
Points to the waking world the sun's broad way,
Then veils his own, and shines above the day.
And see great Washington behind thee rise,
Thy following sun, to gild our morning skies;
[Page 90] O'er shadowy climes to pour the enliv'ning flame,
The charms of freedom and the fire of fame.
Th' ascending chief adorn'd his splendid seat,
Like Randolph, ensign'd with a crown of state;
Where the green patriot bay beheld, with pride,
The hero's laurel springing by its side;
His sword, hung useless, on his graceful thigh,
On Britain still he cast a filial eye;
But sov'reign fortitude his visage bore,
To meet their legions on th' invaded shore.
Sage Franklin next arose, in awful mien,
And smil'd, unruffled, o'er th' approaching scene;
High, on his locks of age, a wreath was brac'd,
Palm of all arts, that e'er a mortal grac'd;
Beneath him lies the sceptre kings have borne,
And crowns and laurels from their temples torn.
Nash, Rutledge, Jefferson, in council great,
And Jay and Laurens op'd the rolls of fate.
The Livingstons, fair Freedom's gen'rous hand,
The Lees, the Houstons, fathers of the land,
O'er climes and kingdoms turn'd their ardent eyes,
Bade all th' oppress'd to speedy vengeance rise;
All pow'rs of state, in their extended plan,
Rise from consent to shield the rights of man.
Bold Wolcott urg'd the all-important cause;
With steady hand the solemn scene he draws;
Undaunted firmness with his wisdom join'd,
Nor kings nor worlds could warp his stedfast mind.
Now, graceful rising from his purple throne,
In radiant robes, immortal Hosmer shone;
Myrtles and bays his learned temples bound,
The statesman's wreath, the poet's garland crown'd:
Morals and laws expand his liberal soul,
Beam from his eyes, and in his accents roll.
But lo! an unseen hand the curtain drew,
And snatch'd the patriot from the hero's view;
Wrapp'd in the shroud of death, he sees descend
The guide of nations and the muse,' friend.
Columbus dropp'd a tear. The angel's eye
Trac'd the freed spirit mounting thro' the sky.
[Page 91]
Adams, enrag'd, a broken charter bore,
And lawless acts of ministerial pow'r;
Some injur'd right in each loose leaf appears
A king in terrors and a land in tears;
From all the guileful plots the veil he drew,
With eye retortive look'd creation through;
Op'd the wide range of nature's boundless plan,
Trac'd all the steps of liberty and man;
Crouds rose to vengeance while his accents rung,
And Independence thunder'd from his tongue.
AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
NOW, where the sheeted flames thro' Charleston roar,
And lashing waves hiss round the burning shore,
Thro' the deep folding fires, a neighbouring height
Thunders o'er all, and seems a field of fight.
Like shadowy phantoms in an evening grove,
To the dark strife the closing squadrons move;
They join, they break, they thicken thro' the air,
And blazing batteries burst along the war;
Now, wrapp'd in redd'ning smoke, now dim in sight
They sweep the hill, or wing the downward flight.
Here, wheel'd and wedg'd, whole ranks together turn,
And the long lightnings from their pieces burn:
There, scattering flashes light the scanty train,
And broken squadrons tread the moving plain.
Britons in fresh battalions rise the height,
And, with increasing vollies, give the fight.
Till, smear'd with clouds of dust and bath'd in gore,
As growing foes their rais'd artillery pour,
[Page 92] Columbia's hosts move o'er the fields afar,
And save, by slow retreat, the sad remains of war.
There strides bold Putnam, and from all the plains,
Calls the tir'd host, the tardy rear sustains.
And, mid the whizzing deaths that fill the air,
Waves back his sword, and dares the following war.
Thro' falling fires, Columbus sees remain
Half of each host in heaps promiscuous slain;
While dying crouds the ling'ring life-blood
[...]our,
And slipp'ry steeds are trod with prints of gore,
There, hapless Warren, thy cold earth was seen,
There spring thy laurels in immortal green;
Dearest of chiefs, that ever press'd the plain,
In Freedom's cause, with early honours slain;
Still dear in death, as when in fight you mov'd,
By hosts applauded and by heaven approv'd,
The faithful muse shall tell the world thy fame,
And unborn realms resound th' immortal name.
Now, from all plains, as smoky wreaths decay,
Unnumber'd shapes start forward to th' affray;
Tall, thro' the lessening shadows, half conceal'd,
They glide and gather in a central field;
There, stretch'd immense, like length'ning groves they stand,
Eye the dark foe, and eager strife demand.
High in the frowning front exalted shone
A hero, pointing tow'rd the half-seen sun:
As, thro' the mist the bursting splendours glow,
And light the passage to the distant foe;
His waving steel returns the living day,
Clears the broad plains and marks the warrior's way;
The long, deep squadrons range in order bright,
And move impatient for the promis'd fight.
When great Columbus saw the chief arise,
And his bold blade cast lightning on the skies,
He trac'd the form that met his view before,
On drear Ohio's desolated shore.
Matur'd with years, with nobler glory warm,
Fate in his eye, and vengeance on his arm,
[Page 93] The great observer here with joy beheld
The hero moving in a broader field.
Unnumber'd chiefs around their leader stand,
Fir'd by his voice, and guided by his hand,
Now on his steps their raptur'd eye-balls glow,
And now roll dreadful on the approaching foe.
There rose brave Greene, in all the strength of arms,
Unmov'd and bright'ning as the danger warms;
In counsel great, in every science skill'd,
Pride of the camp and terror of the field.
With eager look, conspicuous o'er the croud,
The daring port of great Montgomery strode;
Bar'd the bright blade, with Honour's call elate,
Claim'd the first field, and hasten'd to his fate.
Calm Lincoln next, with unaffected mien,
In dangers daring, active and serene,
Careless of pomp, with steady greatness shone,
Sparing of others' blood and liberal of his own,
Heath, for th' impending strife, his falchion draws;
And fearless Wooster aids the sacred cause.
There stood stern Putnam, s
[...]m'd with many a scar,
The vet'ran honours of an earlier war;
Undaunted Stirling, dreadful to his foes,
And Gates and Sullivan to vengeance rose;
While brave M'Dougall, steady and sedate,
Stretch'd the nerv'd arm to ope the scene of fate,
Howe mov'd with rapture to the toils of fame,
And Schuyler still adorn'd an honour'd name;
Parsons and Swallwood lead their daring bands,
And bold St. Clair in front of thousands stands.
There gallant Knox his moving engines brings,
Mounted and grav'd,
the last resort of kings;
‡
The long, black rows in dreadful order wait,
Their grim jaws gaping soon to utter fate;
[Page 94] When, at his word, the red-wing'd clouds shall
[...],
And the deep thunders rock the shores and skies.
Beneath a waving sword, in blooming prime,
[...] moves graceful, ardent, and sublime;
In foreign guise, in Freedom's noble cause,
His untried blade the youthful hero draws:
[...] the great chief his eyes in transport roll,
And Fame and Washington inspire his soul.
Steuben advanced, in vet'ran armour drest,
The noble ensign beaming on his breast;
From rank to rank, in eager haste, he flew,
And marshall'd hosts in dread arrangement drew,
Morris, in aid, with open coffers stood,
And Wadsworth, patron of the brave and good.
While other chiefs and heirs of deathless fame
Rise into sight, and equal honours claim;
But who can tell the dew-drops of the morn?
Or count the rays that in the diamond burn?
With his dread host, Montgomery issues forth,
And lights his passage thro' the dusky north;
O'er streams and lakes his conqu'ring banners play,
Navies and forts surrend'ring, mark his way;
Thro' desert wilds, o'er rocks and sens, they go,
And hills before them, lose their crags in snow.
Unbounded toils they brave; when rise in sight
Quebec's dread walls, and Wofe's still dreary height.
They climb the steep; he eyes the turrets round,
With piked hosts and dark artillery crown'd,
The daring onset points: and, high in air,
O'er rocky ramparts leads the dreadful war.
As wreaths of morning mist ascend on high
Up the tall mountain's side and reach the sky,
So rose the rapid host; the walls are red
With flashing flames; down roll the heaps of dead;
Now back recoil the ranks, o'er squadrons slain,
And leave their leader, with a scanty train,
[Page 95] Clos'd in the circling terrors of the wall,
Where
[...] his a
[...]m the hostile legions fall.
Through the wide streets, collecting from afar,
The foes in shouting squadrons urg'd the war;
The smoke convolv'd, the thunders rock'd around,
And the brave hero prest the gorey ground.
Another Wol
[...]e, Columbus here beheld,
In youthful charms, a soul undaunted yield;
But lost, o'erpower'd, his hardy host remains,
Stretch'd by his side, or led in captive chains.
Now the bright angel turn'd the hero's eye,
To other realms, where other standards fly;
Where the great leader, mid surrounding foes,
Still greater rises, as the danger grows;
And wearied ranks, o'er welt'ring warriors slain,
Attend his course thro' many a crimson'd plain.
From Hudson's banks, along the dreary strand,
He guards, in firm retreat, his feeble hand;
While countless foes, with British Howe advance,
Bend o'er his rear, and point the lifted lance;
O'er Del'ware's frozen wave, with scanty force,
He lifts the sword, and points the backward course,
Wings the dive vengeance on the shouting train,
And leads whole squadrons in the captive chain;
Where vaunting foes to half their numbers yield,
Tread back the flight, or press the fatal field.
While, mid the furious strife, brave Mercer strode,
And seal'd the victory with his streaming blood.
Now, where dread Laurence mingles with the main,
Rose, on the widening wave, a hostile train:
From shore to shore, along the unfolding skies,
Beneath full sails, th' approaching squadrons rise;
High waving on the right, red banners dance,
And British legions o'er the decks advance;
While at their side, an azure flag, display'd,
Leads a long
[...], in German robes array'd.
Tall on the boldest b
[...]k, superior shone
A warrior, ensign'd with a various crown:
Myrtles and laurels equal honour join'd,
Which arms had purchas'd, and the
[...] twin'd:
[Page 96] His sword wav'd forward; and his ardent eye
Seem'd sharing empires in the southern sky.
Beside him rose a herald, to proclaim
His various honours, titles, feats, and fame;
Who rais'd an opening scroll, where proudly shone
Pardon to realms and nations yet unknown.
Champlain receives the congregated host;
And his dark waves, beneath the sails, are lost;
St. Clair beholds; and, with his scanty train,
In firm retreat, o'er many a fatal plain,
Lures their wild march.—Wide moves their furious force,
And flaming hamlets mark their wasting course;
Thro' pathless realms their spreading ranks are wheel'd,
O'er Mohawk's western wave and Bennington's dread field.
Till, where deep Hudson's winding waters stray,
A yeoman host oppos'd their rapid way;
There on a towery height brave Gates arose,
Wav'd the blue steel, and dar'd the headlong foes;
Undaunted Lincoln, moving at his side,
Urg'd the dread strife, and spread the squadrons wide;
Now roll, like winged storms, the length'ning lines,
The clarion thunders, and the battle joins;
Thick flames, in vollied flashes, fill the air,
And echoing mountains give the noise of war;
The clouds rise, reddening, round the dreadful height,
And veil the skies, and wrap the sounding fight.
Now, in the skirt of night, where thousands toil,
Ranks roll away and into light recoil.
The rout increases. All the British train
Tread back their steps, and scatter o'er the plain;
To the glad holds precipitate retire,
And wide behind them streams the flashing fire.
Scarce mov'd the smoke above the gor
[...]y height,
And op'd the slaughter to the hero's sight;
Back to their fate, when baffled squadrons flew,
Resum'd their rage, and pour'd the strife anew,
Again the batt'ries roar, the lightnings play
Again they fall, again they roll away.
[Page 97] And now Columbia, circling round the field.
Points her full force; the trembling thousands yield;
When bold Burgoyne, in one
[...] day,
Sees future crowns and former wreaths decay;
While two illustrious armies shade the plain,
The mighty victors and the captive train.
Still to fresh toils, o'er all the western shore,
Britannia's fleets her new battalions pour;
The realms unconquer'd still their terrors wield,
And stain with mingled gore th' embattled field.
O'er Schuylkill's wave, to various fight they move,
And adverse nations equal slaughter prove;
Till, where dread Monmouth lifts a blooming height,
Britannia's thousands met th' observer's sight.
There strode imperious Clinton o'er the field,
And marshall'd hosts for ready combat held.
As the dim sun, beneath the skirts of even,
Crimsons the clouds, that sail the western heaven;
So, in red wavy rows, where spread the train
Of men and standards, shone th' unmeasur'd plain.
But now the chief of heroes mov'd in sight,
And the long ranks roll forward to the sight;
He points the charge: the mounted thunders roar,
And plough the plain, and rock the distant shore.
Above the folds of smoke, that veil'd the war,
His guiding sword illum'd the fields of air;
The vollied flames, that burst along the plain,
Break the deep clouds, and show the piles of slain;
Till flight begins; the smoke is roll'd away,
And the red standards open into day.
Britons and Germans hurry from the field,
Now wrapp'd in dust, and now to sight reveal'd;
Behind, great Washington his falchion drives,
Thins the pale ranks, and copious vengeance gives.
[Page 98] Hosts captive bow, and move behind his arm,
And hosts before him wing the driv'n storm;
When the glad shore salutes their fainting sight,
And thund'ring navies screen their rapid flight.
Thro' plains of death, that gleam with hostile fires,
Brave Lincoln now to southern climes retires;
Where o'er her streams beleaguer'd Charleston rose,
The hero moves, to meet the assembled foes.
Shading th' invaded isle, on either flood,
Red standards wav'd, and winged batt'ries rode;
While, braving death his scanty host remains,
And the dread strife with various fate sustains.
High from the sable decks, the bursting fires
Sweep the full streets, and cleave the glitt'ring spires.
Vaulted with flying flames, the burning air
Reddens with shells, and pours th' etherial war;
The tented plain, where dauntless heroes tread,
Is torn with broken crags, and strow'd with dead.
Long crouds of suppliants, round the gallant chief,
Raise their wild cries, and pour their frantic grief;
Each show'r of flames renews their startled woe,
They wail the strife, they dread th' infuriate foe.
Th' afflicted fair, while tears bedew their charms,
Babes at their side and infants in their arms,
With piercing shrieks his guardian hand implore,
To save them, trembling, from the victors' pow'r,
He shares their anguish with a moist'ning eye,
And bids the balls rain thicker thro' the sky;
When a lost hero, in a neighbouring post,
Gives a lone fortress to the approaching host;
Now gathering thousands croud around the isle,
Threat wider vengeance, and increase the toil;
On temper'd terms, great Lincoln yields the prize,
And plucks the standard from the saddening skies.
The conqu'ring legions now the champaign tread,
And tow'rd the north their sire and slaughter spread;
[Page 99] Thro' towns and realms, where arming peasants fly,
The bold Cornwallis bears his standard high;
O'er many a field displays his dreadful force,
And thousands fall, and thousands aid his course;
While thro' the conquer'd lands, from ev'ry plain,
The fresh battalions join his splendid train.
So mountain streams, o'er climes of melting snow,
Spread with increasing waves, and whelm the world below,
The great Columbus, with an anxious sigh,
Saw British ensigns reaching round the sky,
Saw desolation whelm his fav'rite coast,
His children scatter'd and their vigour lost;
De Kalb in furious combat press the plain,
Morgan and Smallwood various shocks sustain;
When Greene, in lonely greatness, rose to view,
A few firm patriots to his standard drew;
And, moving stately to a rising ground,
Bade the loud trump to speedy vengeance sound;
Fir'd by the voice, new squadrons, from afar,
Croud to the hero and demand the war.
Round all the shores and plains he turn'd his eye;
Saw forts arise and conqu'ring banners fly:
The sadd'ning scene suspends his rising soul,
And fates of empires in his bosom
[...].
With scanty force where should he lift the steel,
While boasting foes immeasurably wheel?
Or how behold the boundless slaughter spread?
Himself stand idle, and his country bleed?
A silent moment, thus the hero stood,
And held his warriors from the field of blood;
Then points the British legions where to roll,
Marks out their progress, and designs the whole.
He lures their chief, o'er yielding realms to roam,
To build his greatness, and to find his doom?
With gain and grandeur feeds his fateless flame,
And leaves the vict'ry to a nobler name;
Give
[...] great Washington, to meet his way,
Nor claims the glories of so bright a day.
[Page 100]
Now to the conquer'd south with gath'ring force,
O'er sanguine plains he shapes his rapid course,
Forts
[...]all around him; hosts before him fly;
And captive bands his growing train supply.
At length, far spreading thro' a fatal field,
Collecting chiefs their circling armies wheel'd;
Near Eutaw's fount, where, long renown'd for blood,
Pillars of ancient fame in triumph stood,
Britannia's squadrons, rang'd in order bright,
Stand, like a fiery wall, and wait the shock of fight.
When o'er the distant hill brave Greene arose,
Ey'd the far plain, and view'd the glitt'ring foes;
Dispos'd his squadrons, form'd each folded train,
To lead the charge, or the wide wings sustain,
Rous'd all their rage, superior force to prove,
Wav'd the bright blade, and bade the onset move.
As hov'ring clouds, when morning beams arise,
Hang their red curtains round the eastern skies,
Unfold a space to hail the promis'd sun,
And catch their splendours from his rising throne;
Thus glow'd th' approaching fronts, whose steely glare
Glanc'd o'er the hideous interval of war.
Now roll with kindling haste the rapid lines,
From wing to wing the sounding battle joins;
Batteries, and fosses wide, and ranks of fire,
In mingled shocks, their thund'ring blasts expire:
Beneath the smoke, when firm advancing bands,
With piked arms bent forward in their hands,
In dreadful silence tread. As, wrapt from sight,
The nightly ambush moves to secret fight;
So rush the raging files, and sightless close,
In plunging strife, with fierce conflicting foes;
They reach, they strike, they struggle o'er the slain,
Deal heavier blows, and strow with death the plain;
[...]ks crush on ranks, with equal slaughter gor'd,
While dripping streams, from ev'ry lifted sword,
[...] the thin carnag'd hosts; who still maintain,
With mutual shocks, the vengeance of the plain.
[Page 101] Till, where brave Williams strove, and Campbell sell,
Unwonted strokes the British force repel:
The rout begins: the shatter'd wings, afar,
Roll back in haste, and scatter from the war;
They drop their arms; they scour the marshy field;
Whole squadrons fall, and faint battalions yield.
O'er all the great observer fix'd his eye,
Mark'd the whole strife; beheld them fall and fly;
He saw where Greene thro' all the combat drove,
And Death and Vict'ry with his presence move;
Beneath his arm, saw Marion pour the strife,
Pickens and Sumner, prodigal of life;
He saw young Washington, the child of fame,
Preserve in fight the honours of his name;
Brave Lee, in pride of youth, and vet'ran might,
Swept the dread field, and put whole troops to flight;
While num'rous chiefs, that equal trophies raise,
Wrought, not unseen, the deeds of deathless praise.
Columbus now his gallant sons beheld
In triumph move thro' many a banner'd field;
When o'er the main, from Gallia's crouded shore,
To the glad strife a host of heroes pour.
On the tall, shaded decks the leaders stand,
View lessening waves, and hail th' approaching strand.
Brave Rochambeau, in gleamy steel array'd,
The ascending scenes with eager joy survey'd;
Saw Washington, amid his thousands stride,
And long'd to toil and conquer by his side.
Great Chastelleux, with philosophic view,
Mark'd the glad prize that rising realms pursue;
Intent in thought, his glowing bosom warms,
To grace the walks of science and of arms.
Two brother chiefs, in rival lustre rose,
Rear'd the long lance, and claim'd the field of foes,
The bold Viomin
[...]s, of equal fame,
And eager both t' exalt the noble name.
Lauzon, beneath his
[...]ail, in armour bright,
Frown'd o'er the wave, impatient for the sight;
[Page 102] A fiery steed beside the hero stood,
And his broad blade wav'd forward o'er the croud.
And now, with eager haste, they tread the coast;
Thro' grateful regions lead the vet'ran host;
Hail the great chief; beneath his banners join;
Demand the foe; and bid the strife begin.
Again Columbus cast his anxious eye,
Where the red standard wav'd along the sky;
And, grac'd with spoils of many a field of blood,
The bold Cornwallis on a bulwark stood.
O'er conquer'd provinces and towns in flame,
He mark'd his recent monument of
[...]ame,
High rais'd in air, his hands securely hold,
With conscious pride a sheet of cypher'd gold;
There, in delusive haste, his skill had grav'd
A clime subdu'd, a flag in triumph wav'd:
A middle realm, by fairer figures known,
Adorn'd with fruits, lay bounded for his own;
Deep thro' the centre, spreads a beauteous bay,
Full sails ascend, and golden rivers stray;
Bright palaces arise, reliev'd in gold,
And gates and streets the crossing lines unfold
O'er all the mimic scene, his fingers trace
His future seat and glory of his race.
While thus the raptur'd chief his conquests view'd,
And gazing thousands round the rampart stood,
Whom future ease and golden dreams employ,
The songs of triumph and the feast of joy;
Sudden, great Washington arose in view,
And union'd flags his stat
[...]y steps pursue;
Blest Gallia's bands and young Columbia's pride,
Bend the long march, and glitter at his side.
Now on the wave the warring fleets advance,
And diff'rent ensigns o'er their pinions dance;
From northern shores, great Albion's flag unfurl'd,
Wav'd proud defiance to the wat'ry world;
While, from the southern isles, a daring train,
With Gallic banners, shades the billowy main.
Here brave de Grasse, in awful splendour, rode.
And there stern Graves a rival splendour show'd.
[Page 103]
Th' approaching
[...]ails, as far as eye can sweep,
Look thro' the skies, and shade the shudd'ring deep.
As, when the winds of heav'n, from each far pole,
Their adverse storms across the concave roll,
The fleecy vapours thro' the expansion run,
Veil the blue vault, and tremble o'er the sun:
Till the dark folding wings together drive,
And, ridg'd with fires, and rock'd with thunders, strive;
So, bearing thro' the void, at first appear
White clouds of canvass, floating on the air;
Then frown th' approachine fronts; the sails are laid,
And the black decks extend a dreadful shade;
While rolling flames and tides of smoke arise,
And thund'ring cannons rock the seas and skies.
Where the long bursting fires the cloud disclose,
Hosts heave in sight, and blood the decks o'erflows;
There, from the strife, tost navies rise to view,
Drive back to vengeance and the toil renew;
Here, shatter'd barks in squadrons move afar,
Led thro' the smoke, and struggling from the war;
While hulls half-seen, beneath a gaping wave,
And plunging heroes sill the wat'ry grave.
Now the dark, smoky volumes roll'd away,
And a long line ascended into day;
The pinions swell'd, Britannia's flag arose,
And slew the vengeance of triumphing foes.
When up the bay, Virginian lands that laves,
Great Gallia's line its conqu'ring standard waves:
Where still dread Washington illumes the way,
And fleets and moving realms his voice obey;
While the brave Briton mid the gath'ring host,
Perceives his glories and his empire lost.
The heav'n-taught sage in this broad scene beheld
His fav'rite sons the fates of nations wield;
There joyous Lincoln shone in arms again,
Nelson and Knox mov'd ardent o'er the plain,
Unconquer'd Scammel, mid the closing strife,
In sight of victory, pour'd his gallant life;
While Gallic thousands eager toils sustain,
And death and danger brighten every train.
[Page 104] Where Tarleton strides, with hopes of flight elate,
Brave Lauzon moves, and drives him back to fare.
In one dread view, two chosen bands advance,
Colambia's veterans and the pride of France;
These bold Viominil exalts to fame,
And those Fayette's conducting guidance claim.
They lift the sword, with rival glory warm,
O'er piked ramparts pour the flaming storm;
The mounted thunders brave, and lead the foe,
In captive squadrons, to the plain below.
O'er all great Washington his arm extends,
Points ev'ry movement, ev'ry toil defends,
Bids closer strife and bloodier strokes proceed,
New batteries blaze, and heavier squadrons bleed;
Round the grim foe approaching ba
[...]ners rise,
And shells like meteors vault the flaming skies.
With dire dismay the British chief beheld
The foe advance, his vet'rans quit the field;
Despair and slaughter when he turns his eye,
No hope in combat and no pow'r to fly;
There dread de Grasse o'ershades the loaded tide,
Here conqu'ring thousands all the champaign hide;
Fosses and batteries, growing on the fight,
Still pour new thunders and increase the fight;
Shells rain before him, rock the shores around,
And crags and balls o'erturn the tented ground;
From post to post, the driv'n ranks retire,
The earth in crimson and the skies on fire.
Now grateful truce suspends the burning war,
And groans and shouts, promiscuous, load the air;
When the pen
[...] squadrons, where the smokes decay,
Drop all their arms, and move in open day.
Columbus saw th' immeasurable train,
Thousands on thousands, redden all the plain;
Beheld the glorious leader stand sedate,
Hosts in his chain, and banners at his feet;
Nor smile o'er all, nor chide the fallen chief,
But share, with pitying eye, his manly grief.
Thus thro' th' extremes of life, in ev'ry state,
Shines the clear soul, beyond all fortune great;
[Page 105] While smaller minds, the dupes of fickle chance,
Slight woes o'erwhelm, and sudden joys entrance.
So the full sun thro' all the changing sky,
Nor blasts, nor overpow'rs the naked eye;
Tho' transient splendours, borrow'd from his light,
Glance on the mirror, and destroy the sight.
He points brave Lincoln, as they move along,
To claim the triumph of the trembling throng;
Who sees, once more, two armies shade the plain,
The mighty victors and the captive train.
AMERICAN SAGES.
SEE on yon dark'ning height bold Franklin tread,
Heav'n's awful thunders rolling o'er his head;
Convolving clouds the billowy skies deform,
And forky flames emblaze the black'ning storm.
See the descending streams around him burn,
Glance on his rod, and with his guidance turn;
He bids conflicting heav'ns their blasts expire,
Curbs the fierce blaze, and holds th' imprison'd fire.
No more, when folding storms the vault o'erspread,
The livid glare shall strike thy race with dread;
Nor tow'rs nor temples, shuddering with the sound,
Sink in the flames, and spread destruction round.
His daring toils, the threat'ning blast that wait,
Shall teach mankind to ward the bolts of fate;
The pointed steel o'er-top th' ascending spire,
And lead o'er trembling walls the harmless fire;
In his glad fame while distant worlds rejoice,
Far as the lightnings shine, or thunders raise their voice.
[Page 106]
See the sage Rittenhouse, with ardent eye,
Lift the long tube, and pierce the starry sky:
Clear in his view the circling systems roll,
And broader splendours gild the central pole.
He marks what laws th' eccentric wanderers bind,
Copies creation in his forming mind,
And bids, beneath his hand, in semblance rise,
With mimic orbs, the labours of the skies.
There wond'ring crouds with raptur'd eye behold
The spangled heavens their mystic maze unfold;
While each glad sage his splendid hall shall grace,
With all the spheres that cleave th' etherial space.
To guide the sailor in his wand'ring way,
See Godfrey's toils reverse the beams of day.
His lifted quadrant to the eye displays
From adverse skies the counteracting rays;
And marks, as devious sails bewilder'd roll,
Each nice gradation from the stedfast pole.
AMERICAN PAINTERS.
SEE, West with glowing life the canvass warms;
His sov'reign hand creates impassion'd forms,
Spurns the cold critic rules, to seize the heart,
And boldly bursts the former bounds of art.
No more her pow'rs to ancient scenes confin'd,
He opes her liberal aid to all mankind;
She calls to life each patriot chief or sage,
Garb'd in the dress and drap'ry of his age,
Again bold Regulus to death returns;
Again her falling Wolfe Britannia mourns;
Warriors in arms to frowning combat move.
And youths and virgins melt the soul to love;
[Page 107] Grief, rage, and fear beneath his pencil start,
Roll the wild eye, and pour the flowing heart;
While slumb'ring heroes wait his wakening call,
And distant ages fill the storied wall.
With rival force, see Copley's pencil trace
The air of action and the charms of face;
Fair in his tints unfold the scenes of state,
The senate listens and the peers debate;
Pale consternation every heart appals,
In act to speak, while death-struck Chatham falls.
His strong, deep shades a bold expression give,
Rais'd into light the starting figures live:
With polish'd pride the finish'd features boast
The master's art in nature's softness lost.
Fi
[...]'d with the martial toils, that bath'd in gore
His brave companions on his native shore,
Trumbull with daring hand the scene recals,
He
[...] with night Quebec's beleagur'd walls,
Mid flashing flames, that round the turrets rise,
Blind carnage raves, and great Montgomery dies.
On Charlestown's height, thro' floods of rolling fire,
Brave Warren falls, and sullen hosts retire;
While other plains of death, that gloom the skies,
And chiefs immortal o'er his canvass rise.
See rural seats of innocence and ease,
High tufted towers, and walks of waving trees,
The white waves dashing on the craggy shores,
Meand'ring streams, and meads of spangled flow'rs,
Where nature's sons their wild excursions lead,
In just design, from Taylor's pencil spread.
Steward and Brown the moving portrait raise,
Each rival stroke the force of life conveys;
See circling beauties round their tablets stand,
And rise, immortal, from their plastic hand;
Each breathing form preserves its wonted grace,
And all the soul stands speaking in the face.
Two kindred arts the swelling statue heave,
Wake the dead wax, and teach the stone to live.
While the bold chissel claims the rugged strife,
To rouse the sceptred marble into life;
[Page 108] While Latian shrines their figur'd patriots boast,
And gods and heroes croud each orient coast;
See Wright's fair hands the livelier fire control,
In waxen forms she breathes th' impassion'd soul;
The pencil'd tint o'er moulded substance glows,
And diff'rent pow'rs th' unrivall'd art compose.
AMERICAN POETS.
TO equal fame ascends the tuneful throng,
The boast of genius, and the pride of song;
Warm'd with the scenes that grace their various clime,
Their lays shall triumph o'er the lapse of time.
With keen-ey'd glance thro' nature's walks to pierce,
With all the pow'rs and every charm of verse,
Each science op'ning in his ample mind,
His fancy glowing, and his taste refin'd,
See Trumbull lead the train. His skilful hand
Hurls the keen darts of Satire thro' the land;
Pride, Knavery, Dullness, feel his mortal stings,
And list'ning Virtue triumphs while he sings;
Proud Albion's sons, victorious now no more,
In guilt retiring from the wasted shore,
Strive their curst cruelties to hide in vain—
The world shall learn them from his deathless strain.
On glory's wing to raise the ravish'd soul,
Beyond the bounds of earth's benighted pole,
For daring Dwight, the epic muse sublime▪
Hails her new empire on the western clime.
[Page 109] Fir'd with the themes by seers seraphic sung,
Heav'n in his eye, and rapture on his tongue,
His voice divine revives the promis'd land,
The heaven-taught leader and the chosen band.
In Hanniel's fate, proud faction finds her doom,
Ai's midnight flames light nations to their tomb.
In visions bright supernal joys are giv'n,
And all the dread futurities of heav'n.
While Freedom's cause his patriot bosom warms,
In lore of nations skill'd and brave in arms,
See Humphreys, glorious, from the field retire,
Sheath the glad sword, and string the sounding lyre;
That lyre which, erst, in hours of dark despair,
Rous'd the sad realms, to urge th' unfinish'd war.
O'er fallen friends, with all the strength of woe,
His heart-felt sighs in moving numbers flow;
His country's wrongs, her duties, dangers, praise,
Fire his full soul, and animate his lays;
Immortal Washington with joy shall own
So fond a fav'rite and so great a son.
EULOGIUM ON RUM.
ARISE! ye pimpled, tipling race, arise!
From ev'ry town and village tavern, come!
Shew your red noses, and o'erflowing eyes,
And help your poet chant the praise of Rum.
The cordial drop, the morning dram, I sing,
The mid-day toddy, and the evening sling.
Hail, mighty Rum! and by this general name
I call each species—whisky, gin, or brandy:
(The kinds are various—but the effect's the same;
And so I choose a name that's short and handy:
For reader, know, it takes a deal of time,
To make a crocked word lie smooth in thyme.)
[Page 110]
Hail, mighty Rum! thy song inspiring merit
Is known to many a bard in these our days:
Apollo's drink, they find, is void of spirit—
Mere chicken-broth—insipid as their lays:
And, pleas'd, they'd give a riv'let—aye a sea
Of tuneful water, for one quart of thee!
Hail, mighty Rum! how wond'rous is thy pow'r!
Unwarm'd by thee, how would our spirits fail,
When dark December comes, with aspect sour,
And, sharp as razor, blows the northern gale!
And yet thou'rt grateful in that sultry day,
When raging Sirius darts his fervid ray.
Hail, mighty Rum! to thee the wretched fly:
And find a sweet oblivion of their woes;
Lock'd in thy arms, as in the grave, they lie—
Forget their kindred—and forgive their foes.
And Lethe's stream, (so much extoll'd by some,
In ancient times) I shrewdly guess, was Rum.
Hail, mighty Rum! what can thy pow'r withstand!
E'en lordly Reason flies thy dreadful face:
And Health, and Joy, and all the lovely band
Of social virtues, shun thy dwelling place:
(For in whatever breast it rears its throne,
Like Turkish monarchs, Rum must rule alone.)
When our bold fathers cross'd th' Atlantic wave,
And here arriv'd—a weak defenceless band—
Pray, what became of all the tribes so brave—
The savage owners of this happy land?
Were they sent headlong to the realms below,
"By doom of battle?"friend,
† I answer no.
Our fathers were too wise to think of war;
They knew the woodlands w
[...]re no
[...] quickly past,
They might have met with many an
[...]—
Lost many a foretop—and been.
[Page 111] But Rum, assisted by his son, Disease,
Perform'd the business with surprising ease.
And would our western brethren be less proud, or,
In other words, throw by their gun and drum—
For ducks and squirrels, save their lead and powder,
And send the tawny rogues some pipes of rum—
I dare predict, they all would gladly suck it;
And ev'ry mother's son soon
kick the bucket.
But lo! th' ingratitude of Adam's race!
Tho' all these clever things to Rum we owe—
Gallons of ink are squirted in his face;
And his bruis'd back is bang'd with many a blow;
Some hounds of note have rung his funeral knell,
And ev'ry puppy joins the gen'ral yell.
So have I seen (the simile is fine—
And wonderfully pat—tho' rather old)
When rising Phoebus shot his rays benign,
A flock of sheep come skipping from the fold;
Some restless sheep cries baa: and all the throng,
Ewes, rams, lambs, wethers, bellowing pour along.
But fear not, Rum, tho' fiercely they assail,
And none but I, the bard, thy cause defend,
Think not thy foes—tho' num'rous—shall prevail,
Thy pow'r diminish, or thy being end:
Tho' spurn'd from table, and the public eye,
In the snug closet safely shalt thou lie.
And oft, when Sol's proud chariot quits the sky,
And humbler Cynthia mounts her one-horse chair,
To that snug closet shall thy vot'ry fly;
And, wrapt in darkness, keep his orgies there;
Lift the full bottle, joyous, to his head,
Then, great as Caesar, reel sublime to bed.
Burlington Dec. 7 th, 1789.
[Page 112]
AN ELEGY On the burning of FAIRFIFLD, in CONNECTICUT.
Written on the spot,—
anno 1779.
YE smoking ruins, marks of hostile ire,
Ye ashes warm, which drink the tears that slew,
Ye desolated plains my voice inspire,
And give soft music to the song of woe!
How pleasant, Fairfield, on th' enraptur'd sight,
Rose thy tall spires, and op'd thy social halls!
How oft my bosom beat with pure delight,
At yonder spot, where stand the darken'd walls!
But there the voice of mirth resounds no more,
A silent sadness through the streets prevails,
The distant main alone is heard to roar,
And hollow chimnies hum with sullen gales;
Save where scorch'd elms th' untimely foliage shed,
Which rustling hovers round the faded green;
Save where at twilight mourners frequent tread,
'Mid recent graves o'er desolation's scene.
How chang'd the blissful prospect, when compar'd
These glooms funereal with thy former bloom:
Thy hospitable rights when Tryon shar'd,
Long ere he seal'd thy melancholy doom.
That impious wretch, with coward voice decreed
Defenceless domes and hallow'd fa
[...]es to dust,
Beheld with sneering smile the wounded bleed,
And spurr'd his bands to rapine, blood and lust.
[Page 113]
Vain was the widow's, vain the orphan's cry,
To touch his feelings or to sooth his rage;
Vain the fair drop that roll'd from beauty's eye,
Vain the dumb grief of supplicating age.
Could Tryon hope to quench the patriot flame,
Or make his deeds survive in glory's page?
Could Britons seek of savages the same,
Or deem it conquest thus the war to wage?
Yes, Britons scorn the councils of the skies,
Extend wide havoc, spurn the insulted foes!
Th' insulted foes to tenfold vengeance rise,
Resistance growing as the danger grows.
Red in their wounds and pointing to the plain,
The visionary shapes before me stand;
The thunder bursts, the battle burns again,
And kindling fires encrimson all the strand.—
Long dusky wreaths of smoke, reluctant driven,
In blackening volumes o'er the landscape bend;
Here the broad splendour blazes high to heaven,
There umber'd streams in purple pomp ascend.
In fiery eddies round the tott'ring walls,
Emitting sparks, the lighter fragments fly;
With frightful crash the burning mansion falls,
The works of years in glowing embers lie.
Tryon! behold thy sanguine flames aspire,
Clouds ting'd with does intolerably bright!
Behold, well pleas'd, the village wrapt in fire;
Let one wide ruin glut thy ravish'd sight!
Ere fades the grateful scene, indulge thine eye,
See age and sickness tremulously slow,
Creep from the flames—see babes in torture die—
And mothers swoon in agonies of woe.
[Page 114]
Go, gaze, enraptur'd with the mother's tear,
The infant's terror, and the captive's pain,
Where no bold bands can check thy curst career,
Mix fire with blood on each unguarded plain.
These be thy triumphs! this thy boasted same!
Daughters of mem'ry, raise thy deathless songs
Repeat through endless years his hated name,
Embalm his crimes and teach the world our wrongs!
AN ELEGY ON LIEUTENANT DE HART, * VOLUNTEER AID TO GEN. WAYNE.
WHEN autumn, all humid and drear,
With darkness and storms in his train,
Announcing the death of the year,
Despoil'd of its verdure the plain:
When horror congenial prevail'd,
Where graves are with fearfulness trod,
De Hart by his sister was wail'd,
His sister thus sigh'd o'er his sod:
Near Hudson, a fort, on these banks,
Its flag of defiance unfurl'd:
He led to the storm the first ranks;
On them, iron tempests were hurl'd,
Transpierc'd was his breast with a ball—
His breast a red fountain supply'd,
Which, gushing in waves still and small,
Distain'd his white bosom and side.
[Page 115]
His visage was ghastly in death,
His hair, that so lavishly curl'd,
I saw, as he lay on the heath,
In blood, and with dew-drops impearl'd.
How dumb is the tongue, that could speak
Whate'er could engage and delight!
How faded the rose on his cheek!
Those eyes, how envelop'd in night!
Those eyes, that illumin'd each soul,
All darken'd to us are now grown:
In far other orbits they roll,
Like stars to new systems when gone.
My brother, the pride of the plain,
In vain did the graces adorn;
His blossom unfolded in vain,
To die like the blossom of morn.
Oh war, thou hast wasted our clime,
And tortur'd my bosom with sighs;
My brother, who fell ere his prime,
Forever is torn from my eyes.
To me, how distracting the storm,
That blasted the youth in his bloom:
Alas, was so finish'd a form
Design'd for so early a tomb?
How bright were the prospects that shone!
Their ruin 'tis mine to deplore—
Health, beauty, and youth were his own.
Health, beauty, and youth are no more.
No blessings of nature and art,
Nor music that charm'd in the song,
Nor virtues that glow'd in the heart,
Dear youth, could thy moments prolong
Thrice six times the spring had renew'd
Its youth and its charms for the boy;
With rapture all nature he view'd,
For nature he knew to enjoy.
[Page 116] But chiefly his country could charm:
He felt—'twas a generous heat—
With drums and the trumpet's alarm,
His pulses in consonance beat.
Ye heroes, to whom he was dear,
Come weep o'er this sorrowful urn,
Come ease the full heart with a tear—
My hero will never return:
He died in the dawn of applause,
His country demanded his breath;
Go, heroes, defend the same cause,
Avenge, with your country, his death.
So sung on the top of the rocks,
The virgin in sorrow more fair;
In tears her blue eyes; and her locks
Of auburn flew loose on the air.
I heard, as I pass'd down the stream;
The guards of the foe were in view:—
To enterprize fir'd by the theme,
I bade the sweet mourner adieu.
MOUNT VERNON: AN ODE.
BY broad Potowmack's azure tide,
Where Vernon's mount, in sylvan pride,
Displays its beauties far,
Great Washington, to peaceful shades,
Where no unhallow'd wish invades,
Retir'd from fields of war.
[Page 117]
Angels might see, with joy, the sage,
Who taught the battle where to rage,
Or quench'd it's spreading flame,
On works of peace employ that hand,
Which wav'd the blade of high command,
And hew'd the path to fame.
Let others sing his deeds in arms,
A nation sav'd, and conquest's charms:
Posterity shall hear,
'Twas mine, return'd from Europe's courts,
To share his thoughts, partake his sports,
And sooth his partial ear.
To thee, my friend, these lays belong:
Thy happy seat inspires my song;
With gay, perennial blooms,
With fruitage fair, and cool retreats,
Whose bow'ry wilderness of sweets
The ambient air perfumes.
Here spring its earliest buds displays,
Here latest on the leafless sprays,
The plumy people sing:
The vernal show'r, the rip'ning year,
Th' autumnal store, the winter drear,
For thee new pleasures bring.
Here lapp'd in philosophic ease,
Within thy walks, beneath thy trees,
Amidst thine ample farms,
No vulgar converse heroes hold,
But past or future scenes unfold,
Or dwell on nature's charms.
What wond'rous era have we seen,
Plac'd on this
[...] half between
A rude and polish'd state!
We saw the war tempestuous rise,
In arms a world, in blood the skies,
In doubt an empire's fate.
[Page 118]
The storm is calm'd, seren'd the heav'n,
And mildly o'er the climes of ev'n,
Expands th' imperial day:
O God, the source of light supreme,
Shed on our dusky morn a gleam,
To guide our doubtful way!
Restrain, dread pow'r, our land from crimes!
What seeks, tho' blest beyond all times,
So querulous an age?
What means to freedom such disgust,
Of change, of anarchy the lust,
The fickleness and rage?
So spake his country's friend, with sighs,
To find that country still despise
The legacy he gave—
And half he fear'd his toils were vain,
And much that man would court a chain,
And live, through vice, a slave.
A transient gloom o'ercast his mind:
Yet, still on Providence reclin'd,
The patriot fond believ'd,
That pow'r benign too much had done,
To leave an empire's task begun,
Imperfectly achiev'd.
Thus buoy'd with hope, with virtue blest,
Of ev'ry human bliss possest,
He meets the happier hours;
His skies assume a lovelier blue,
His prospects brighter rise to view,
And fairer bloom his flow'rs.
[Page 119]
AN ODE. ADDRESSED TO LAURA.
OH, lovely Laura, may a youth,
Inspir'd by beauty, urg'd by truth,
Disclose the heart's alarms,
The fire in raptur'd breasts that glows,
Th' impassion'd pang on love that grows,
And dare to sing thy charms!
Enough with war my lay has rung;
A softer theme awakes my tongue;
'Tis beauty's force divine:
Can I resist that air, that grace,
Thy harmony of form and face?
For ev'ry charm is thine.
Of health, of youth th' expanding flush,
Of virgin fear the flying blush,
With crimson stain thy cheek:
The bee such nectar never sips,
As yield the rose-buds of thy lips,
When sweetly thou dost speak.
'Tis thine the heaviest heart to cheer,
Those accents, drank with eager ear,
So musically roll:
Where swells the breast, the snow-white skin
Scarce hides the secret thoughts within,
Nor needs disguise that soul.
With thee, of cloudless days I dream;
Thy eyes, in morning splendours, beam
So exquisitely fair—
What taste! as o'er thy back and breast,
In light-brown ringlets neatly drest,
Devolves a length of hair.
[Page 120]
Unblam'd, oh, let me gaze and gaze,
While love-sick fancy fondly strays,
And feasts on many a kiss;—
For us let tides of rapture roll,
And may we mingle soul with soul,
In extacies of bliss!
THE GENIUS OF AMERICA. A SONG.
TUNE,—The watry God, &c.
WHERE spirits dwell and shad'wy forms,
On Andes' cliffs mid black'ning storms,
With livid lightnings curl'd:
The awful genius of our clime,
In thunder rais'd his voice sublime,
And hush'd the list'ning world.
In lonely waves and wastes of earth,
A mighty empire claims its birth,
And heav'n asserts the claim;
The sails that hang in yon dim sky,
Proclaim the promis'd era nigh,
Which wakes a world to same.
Hail, ye first bounding barks that roam,
Blue tumbling billows topp'd with foam,
Which keel ne'er plough'd before!
Here suns perform their useless round,
Here rove the naked tribes embrown'd,
Who feed on living gore.
[Page 121]
To midnight orgies, off'ring dire,
The human sacrifice on fire,
A heav'nly light succeeds—
But, lo' what horrors intervene,
The toils severe, the carnag'd scene,
And more than mortal deeds!
Ye FATHERS, spread your same afar,
'Tis yours to still the sounds of war,
And bid the slaughter cease;
The peopling hamlets wide extend,
The harvests spring, the spires ascend,
Mid grateful songs of peace.
Shall steed to steed, and man to man,
With discord thund'ring in the van,
Again destroy the bliss?
Enough my mystic words reveal,
The rest the shades of night conceal,
In fate's profound abyss.
THE COUNTRY MEETING: OR FRIENDS' PLACE OF WORSHIP.
OF wars tremendous deeds, the din of arms,
And acts by Fame renown'd, fain would I sing,
But that ambition ne'er my bosom warms,
Nor would Calliope her succour bring
To hard that soars with too advent'rous wing,
O Shenstone! sweetest child of fancy fair,
Dart one fond ray and guide the weakest quill,
That ever rashly claim'd thy guardian care,
To point the high path up the slipp'ry hill,
Where thou thy lyre dost touch with
[...] skill.
[Page 122]
Themes that have ne'er been polish'd into rhyme,
Would a faint pencil in this verse pourtray,
If in the fond attempt to gain on time,
No taunting critic meet me on my way,
And with these accents rude my heart dismay:
Vain youth, forbear, by desp'rate folly mov'd,
Of poetasters the mean herd to swell;
But mark his strain whom laurell'd Phoebus lov'd,
What Horace, tuneful bard, has sung so well,
How Daedalus's son, bold artist, headlong fell.
View yonder ancient dome with trees beset,
From which no lofty spire doth proudly rise,
Nor hence each week, when congregation's met,
Are studied hymns e'er wing'd unto the skies,
Nor doth amen from parish clerk arise.
E
[...]en music's lulling charms beseemeth wrong
To those who did this modest temple rear;
For all, who to those lonely confines throng,
Worship in guise of solemn silent prayer;
Nor can they think that words their sinful deeds repair.
No pulpit here doth grace the naked wall,
Nor doth the sculptor his gay art express:
For thus they teach: Religion does not call
For the vain ornaments of splendid dress,
Nor will meek heaven superfluous grandeur bless.
And wrong they hold it, that the flock should pay
For truths which ought to flow without controul,
Free as the silver dew, or light of day,
To beam mild virtue on the expanding soul,
And spread celestial sparks, free gift, from pole to pole.
But see, o'er yonder field, the elder train
Of village dames their little infants bring,
Who else might loiter on the grassy plain,
And wet their new clothes in yon bubbling spring,
Which would their parents' minds with sorrow sting.
[Page 123] The sportive urchins oft will skip away,
To chase the partridge from the neighb'ring bush;
And oft, with balls of well-attemper'd clay,
Will from its covert fright the trembling thrush,
Nor mind the matron's careful voice, which would them hush.
Down the slop'd hill the gayer tribe descend,
On neighing steeds, that champ the steeled bit,
Strait to the fane their pompous way they tend;
There 'midst their peers in goodly order
[...]it,
Young swains for strength renown'd, and maids for wit;
Such strength as at the mill-door oft is seen,
When Colin lifts the sack of mighty weight;
Such wit as sports in gambols o'er the green,
And would the ear of nicer townsman grate:
He'd call it shocking stuff, and rude, unseemly prate.
Yet Humour her abode will deign to fix
Amidst the lively rustics of the place,
And with the village hinds will often mix,
Giving to ev'ry feat a festive grace,
And spreading chearfulness o'er ev'ry face.
Let the polite, the polish'd, blame their joys,
Whom Nature, unconstrain'd, can never charm:
This is the life which
[...] never cloys,
Nor e'er can fell Ambition work it harm,
Blowing with hideous blast its poisonous alarm.
See yonder youth on prancing bay steed ride,
While satisfaction on his broad front beams;
And view his gentle charmer by his side,
For whom he wishes, and of whom he dreams;
Of heavenly form and mind to him she seems.
For her each ev'ning, anxiously he calls,
Of wild flow'rs fair, a nosegay scented sweet:
For her the chesnut drops its prickly hulls,
And the wood pigeon yields its sav'ry meat,
[...] thousand tempting gifts which verse cannot repeat.
[Page 124]
And now thro' folding doors, full wide display'd,
The assembly's grave and pious numbers throng,
While well each noisy buzzing murmur's stay'd,
With the loose prattling of each infant tongue;
For oft confusion has from childhood sprung.
See the wise elder's venerable grace,
Mark with what slow pac'd dignity he moves:
See ev'ry little eye hangs on his face,
And over all his features fondly roves,
For he the junior train affectionately loves.
The village teacher sits with looks profound,
And marks the ent'ring throng, with eye askance;
If, as he careful views the dome around,
He should on careless pupil's visage chance,
He sends him straight a play forbidding glance.
Of looks like these he hath a plenteous store,
To fright his students from each frolic mood:
And well they watch to see his aspect lour,
Trying each art to avert the baleful wood,
By sitting wond'rous still, and seeming e'en us good.
Silence with Sleep his empire now divides,
While some on this, and some on that side nod;
The ploughman still his steers and ploughshare guides,
And breaks, in pleasing dreams, the fancied sod;
While the school-mistress wields the birchen rod.
Others, more wakeful, plan their future deeds,
While on increase of wealth their wishes stray:
The farmer thus in rapture counts his steeds,
And deals to each his part of winter's hay,
Till spring renews the grass, and gives returning May.
Where will not thirst of treach'rous gold approach,
Since here, e'en here, it holds its wide domain!
From the warm cit who rolls in gilded coach,
To the dull carter, whistling o'er the plain,
Does Plutus, god of shining lucre, reign.
[Page 125] Happy, thrice happy are th' instructed few,
On whom fell Want ne'er lays her harpy claws,
But, far retir'd from 'midst the toiling crew,
Live in observance of wise Nature's lays,
And learn from her to trace the great Eternal Cause.
WRITTEN AT SEA, IN A HEAVY GALE.
HAPPY the man who, safe on shore,
Now trims, at home, his evening fire;
Unmov'd he hears the tempest roar,
That on the tufted groves expire;
Alas! on us they doubly fall,
Our feeble bark must bear them all.
Now to their haunts the birds retreat,
The squirrel seeks his hollow tree,
Wolves in their shaded caverns meet,
All, all are blest but wretched we—
For, doom'd a stranger to repose,
No rest the unsettled ocean knows.
Whilst o'er the dark abyss we roam,
Perhaps, whate'er the pilots say,
We saw the sun's descending gloom,
No more to see the rising ray;
But buried low, by far too deep,
On coral beds unpitied sleep!
But what a strange uncoasted strand
Is that where death permits no day,
No charts we have to mark that land,
No compass to direct the way!
What pilot shall explore that realm,
What new Columbus take the helm!
[Page 126]
While death and darkness both surround,
And tempests rage with lawless power,
Of friendship's voice I hear no sound,
No comfort in this dreadful hour—
What friendship can in tempests be,
What comforts on this angry sea!
The barque accustom'd to obey,
No more the trembling pilots guide,
Alone she gropes her trackless way.
While mountains burst on every side.
Thus skill and science both must fall,
And ruin is the lot of all.
THE AMERICAN WARRIOR.
FROM THE (CHARLESTON) STAR.
Virtus, recludens immoritis m
[...]ri
Coelum, n
[...]gata tentat iter via:
Coetusque vu
[...]gares, et udam
Spernit humum fugiente penn
[...].
AT that still hour when midnight shades the sky,
And twinkling planets roll their orbs on high,
The
[...]ad CARANDOC left his native home
A while through drear Columbia's wilds to roam.
Pensive he mov'd, by bitterest griefs opprest,
And thus pour'd forth the sorrows of his breast:
Curse on the insidiously deceitful foes!
In vain would force their treachery oppose!
[Page 127] Envelop'd by the solemn shades of night,
Our town was husht! extinguish'd every light!
No hollow murmurs breath'd along the vale,
No echoes whisper'd to the gentle gale:
At length a sudden yell is heard around,
And all ALTAMA shudder'd at the found.
Confus'd amaz'd, each warrior left his bed,
And rush'd upon the snare the traitors spread;
Part seize their arms, and fierce to combat fly;
And part, reclin'd in sleep, ignobly die:
All wild at random deal the deadly blow,
The javelin that prepares, and this the bow:
But most, alas! with groans yield up their breath,
And leave the bonds of sleep, for those of death.
Loud, conquering shouts, and horrid groans arise,
From all around; the clangour mounts the skies!
Soon as these dreadful shouts assault my ear,
I wield the ax, and brandish high my spear:
To join the war my gallant men I call,
And bid them conquer, or as bravely fall.
Full many a warrior fell beneath my hand,
Clasp'd the cold earth, and bit thensanguin'd sand,
Whilst horror, hand in hand with wild affright.
Stalk'd through the ranks, or hover'd o'er the sight.
Now clouds of arrows whizz'd along the air,
Whilst all the cots involv'd in flames appear:
On every side shrill female shrieks resound,
And slaughter'd heroes strew'd the mournful ground.
My dear companions all at length were slain;
When, impotent the battle to sustain,
While yet the grass was tipt with midnight dew,
Through hostile ranks, through slaughtering foes I flew.
Till, quite o'ercome. I rested in this gloom;
Where soon I trust to end my hapless doom!
Can this lone forest peace of mind bestow?
Or ease a wretch whose life's surcharg'd with woe?
[Page 128] Can I my nation, and my griefs survive?
No, honour, glory bid me cease to live!
Thick clouds of smoke ascend the lurid skies!
Lo! even now the glaring flames arise!
And, hark! the conqueror's shouts assail my ear,
While groans of heroes urge the briny tear!
Farewel, ye dreary wilds! for now I go
To visit peaceful realms unknown to woe:
Whose vales are blooming with perennial flowers,
And meadows water'd by refreshing showers,
There shall I see my lov'd
Lamuna's shade,
Stray o'er the fields, and haunt the blossom'd glade:
Clasp to my breast the idol of my heart,
And (oh! the pleasing thought) no more to part:
But, while she wanders
[...] vallies o'er,
I'll hunt the stag or rouse the mountain boar.
—She glides before me on the gentle wind!—
And bids me cease to tarry long behind!—
I come,—I come,—
Lamuna dear—I come!
And joyful seek thembraces of the tomb!
Carandoc plung'd a weapon in his breast,
Clos'd his dim eyes, and sunk to endless rest.
THE DOCTRINE OF CONSEQUENCES.
A TALE.
THE greatest plagues on earth ('tis plain),
Are restless phantoms of the brain,
The frantic hobby of the hour,
Subjects us to his wayward pow'r:
[Page 129] So
[...] charm the view,
And we their devious paths pursue.
O be it then our earliest care,
T' arrest wild fancy's m
[...]d career:
Unless we check the growing evil,
With common sense 't will play the devil.
Bernard, the hero of our tale.
Was, like our common nature, frail;
Judicious oft—but sit and start
Would whisper folly to his heart.
Of every whimsey when possess'd,
He hail'd his lot, and call'd it blest.
Long had his philosophic eye,
Been moving round the world, t' espy
A single rule by which to square,
To measure, ascertain, compare,
And fix futurity's events,
Beyond the range of common sense.
Pond'ring thro' all the moods and tenses,
Last hit"the rule of consequences."
Proud of his vast, profound employ,
He own'd the miracle with joy.
To give it vent, and teach mankind
This grand arcanum of the mind,
First call'd his lad, began a lecture,
Announc'd th' infallible director.
Haranguing with all due confusion,
His logic spun to this conclusion—
"Then learn—the slightest hint—a word—
Should full intelligence afford.
Nor keep events in dubitation,
To ask a year of explication.
Now, James, remark—to-morrow morn,
I wish to ride before the dawn,
This doctrine teaches you (of course),
To straight prepare my faithful horse;
To clean my stirrups, spurs, and boots,
And fix all else th' occasion suits,
[Page 130] Compleat and ready at the door,
And wake me (for I rise) at four.
So says the rule—anticipate—
Nor tedious explanations wait."
The pupil promis'd to obey,
And have all done 'fore break of day.
He swore allegiance to the maxim,
Defy'd any with neglect to tax him.
Before the sun had reach'd the skies,
Brisk Jemmy to our hero flies;
With thund'ring knocks the chamber rung;
"Arise. sir, 'tis four, you'll ride"he sung.
"I'm sick—I've had a restless night;
Disorder'd, fev'rish, sluggish quite.
Go, James, unsaddle then the horse"—
He did—and hurried for a nurse;
Next to a druggist and physician,
He told old Bernard's sad condition;
That he was sick—he wanted breath—
Alas! and at the hour of death.
"O hasten with a tenfold pace,
I fear it is a desp'rate case!"
But ere they reach'd the good man's bed,
Our wag proclaim'd the patient dead.
Next to the sexton forth he hurried,
Announc'd his master to be buried!
Now the old man, (good luck it seems),
Was rapt in sleep and gentle dreams.
A coffin came—was plac'd beside him—
Some waggish maids fell to and ty'd him.
The shutter's clos'd, the lamps were lighted,
The chamber hung in gloom, benighted.
The funeral bell began to toll,
The house resounded"Ah, poor soul!"
Old Bernard woke—alas! the dread,
That struck his heart—he rais'd his head—
Big drops of sweat roll'd down his cheek—
He look'd—he hemm'd—and try'd to speak.
[Page 131] The lamps—the knell—the coffin—gloom—
With all the horrors of a tomb,
Rous'd every hair—his eye-balls roll'd—
He gnash'd his teeth—his blood ran cold—
With fright, amaze, and anguish spent,
He almost breath'd a meek consent.
When James, to save the patient's reason,
Come in just at the lucky season.
"Heaven spare me! gentle spirit, tell,
What region's this—am I in hell?
O whither, whither, pr'ythee say,
Is fled the cheering light of day?"
Quick to the corpse, with hasty strides,
Whilst loudest laughter shook his sides,
James ran, and grasp'd his master's feet,
Unwrapp'd the well-bound winding sheet.
Withdrew the horrid apparatus
Out put the lamps, and op'd the shutters.
Our sage, once more to reason brought,
With rage impell'd, James' throat fast caught—
"Infernal! tell me, what's your meaning?"
Scratching his head (the wag) and grinning,
"Why, master Bernard, what's the flurry?
We only came your corps to bury.
So says the rule—
anticipate—
Nor tedious explanations wait.
I heard you groan, complain, and sigh,
Could any doubt exist, you'd die?
If wrong—you'll father such offences,
Your doctrine this—of consequences."
The joke went round—th' unhappy sage
Was laugh'd at to a good old age.
Boys hooted—negroes ran to view him,
A standing jest to all who knew him.
[Page 132]
SONG.
YE constant to truth and to love!
Forgive me this wand'ring of mind—
Ah! do not forgive, but approve,
And repentance I'll throw to the wind.
In absence from Delia I've wept;
I've pin'd at the loss of my fair;
Had the vows pledg'd so sacred been kept,
My breast had ne'er swell'd with despair!
But no more I repine—for a maid,
The sweetest, the lov'liest e'er seen,
Has heal'd my heart's wounds as they bled.
And bade me no more to complain.
Who the charms of Eliza can paint?
Her mind so adorn'd, so improv'd,
Her heart to the virtues so bent,
Her manners so soft, so belov'd?
What enchantment, what magic her eyes!
Tis rapture to see her but move:
When she smiles,—nor is great the surprise,—
E'en envy is ravish'd to love.
O, hasten ye sweet future hours!
To bind the attachment still more—
Hear destiny, kindest of pow'rs!
'Tis friendship and love that implore!
Henceforth when keen sorrows aggrieve
The heart of her bard—he'll confess,
None so keen but the nymph can relieve,
And pleasure create from distress.
[Page 133]
STANZAS, ON THE PRESIDENT'S BIRTH DAY.
NO peerage we covet, no sceptres desire,
Nor gew gaws that garnish a throne;
Yet liberty loves on her own native lyre
To celebrate sons of her own.
And always with rapture his virtue she sings,
And exults on the morn of his birth,
Who shakes every throne of despotical kings,
And gives a new lesson to earth.
O, widely diffuse it, ye winds as ye blow!
O waft it ye waves that they fan!
For the choicest of gifts that the gods can bestow,
Is the
[...]lessing of freedom to man.
O
Washington, hail! whom the breath of pure same
With praises more sweet shall perfume,
Than ever embalm'd or exalted a name
In Macedon, Athens, or Rome.
For freedom say what did that foe of the Greek,
Alexander, that hero admir'd?
Let the foes, or the friend whom he massacred speak;
Or beautiful city he fir'd!
Ye unfetter'd freemen examine each deed
That made him renown'd and ador'd;
Then mention what race by his valour was freed,
Or bless'd by his sceptre or sword!
Did conquering
Caesar Rome's senate obey?
Did the legions disperse at a word?
Did he halt or retire from a summit of sway
That saving his country conferr'd?
[Page 134]
Then,
Washington, hail
[...] whom the breath of pure same
With praises more sweet shall perfume,
Than ever embalm'd or exalted a name,
In Macedon, Athens, or Rome.
Did Athens, did Sparta one hero produce
T' extinguish their sends by his mind,
Or prove to the free the pre-eminent cause
Of union to them and mankind?
Ah, no! if wise Greece but one patriot adept,
One leader like ours, had enjoy'd,
No lover of freedom or science had wept,
For science and freedom destroy'd.
Then,
Washington, hail! whom the breath of pure same
With praises more sweet shall perfume
Than ever embalm'd or exalted a name
In Macedon, Athens, or Rome.
THE FIRE FLY.
LITTLE rambler of the night,
Where and whence thy glowing light
Is it form'd of ev'ning dew?
Where and whence thy brilliant hue?
Hark! methinks, a voice replies,
He that form'd the azure
[...]ies,
Great in least, and good to all,
Lord of man, and insect small,
He it was, that made this vest,
Search, adore, nor know the rest.
Little rambler of the night,
Blessed be this voice of thine!
He that cloth'd thy form in light,
Is the God of me and mine!
[Page 135] Go enjoy in verdant fields,
What his royal bounty yields;
Nip the leaf or taste the flower;
S
[...]p in nature's roseate bower;
Falling full the span that is given,
With the boons of gracious heaven.
THE THUNDER STORM.
MANTLING in the azure sky,
Wat'ry clouds resolve on high,
[...] light'nings stream around;
Rolling thunder rocks the ground;
Now, the rain impetuous sweeps,
Fast adown the etherial steeps;
Rapid pours the torrent on:
Thirsty mount, and parched lawn,
Lofty hill, and lowly vale,
Smiling bid the tempest hail;
We were thirsty, we were dry;
Open, open wide the sky,
Let the flood descend on all,
This is nature's fervent call,
See, again it clears away,
Brighter shines the fare of day;
Purer breathes the ambient air,
All creation doubly fair,
Rises on the raptured view,
In a livery more than new.
[Page 136]
AN EPISTLE TO DR. DWIGHT. *
On board the Courier de
[...]'Europe,
July 20, 1784.
FROM the wide watry waste, where nought but skies
And mingling waves salute the aching eyes
Where the same moving circle bounds the view,
And paints with
[...]ap'ry tints the billows blue;
To thee, my early friend! to thee, dear Dwight!
Fond recollection turns, while thus I write;
While I reflect, no change of time or place,
The impressions of our friendship can efface;
Nor peace, nor war, tho' chang'd for us the scene,
Tho' mountains rise, or oceans roll between;
Too deep that sacred passion was imprest
On my young heart, too deep it mark'd your breast;
Your breast which asks the feelings of your friend,
What chance betides him, or what toils attend?
Then hear the muse, in sea-born numbers tell
In mind how cheerful, and in health how well;
And ev'n that muse will deign to let you know,
What things concur to make and keep him to.
We go, protected by supernal care,
With cloudless skies, and suns serenely fair;
While o'er the unruffled main the gentle gale
Consenting breathes, and sills each swelling
[...]ail;
Conscious of safety in the self same hand,
Which guides us on the ocean or the land.
Of thee, fair
[...]! the
[...] prophetic sings,
Europes swift Messenger! expand thy wings,
[Page 137]
[...] thy tall m
[...]sts, extend thine ample arms,
Catch the light breeze, nor dread impending harms.
Full of shalt thou, if aught the muse avails,
Wing the broad deep with such delighted gales;
Full oft to either world announce glad news,
Of allied realms promote the friendly views;
So shall each distant age assert thy claim,
And
Europe's messenger be known to same!
What tho' this plain so uniform and vast,
Illimitably spreads its dreary waste;
What tho' no isles, nor vales, nor hills, nor groves,
Meet the tired eye that round the horizon roves;
Yet, still collected in a narrow bound,
Ten thousand little pleasures may be found.
Here we enjoy accommodations good,
With pleasant liquors, and well-flavour'd food,
Me
[...]s nicely fatten'd in Columbian fields,
And luscious wines, that Gallia's vintage yields,
On which you bards ('twas so in former days)
Might feast your wit, and I wish all your praise.
Within our ship, well-furnish'd, roomy, clean,
Come see the uses of each different scene.
Far in the prow, for culinary use,
Fires, not poetic, much good cheer produce;
The ovens there our daily bread afford,
And thence the viands load our plenteous board.
See various landscapes shade our dining hall,
Where m
[...]nic nature wantons round the wall,
There no vain pomp appears, there all is neat,
And there cool zephyrs fanning, as we eat,
Avert the fervours of the toon-tide ray,
And give the mildness of the vernal day.
See the great cabin nigh, its doors unfold,
Shew fleeting forms from mirrors fix'd in gold!
[Page 138] O'er painted ceilings brighter prospects rise,
And rural scenes again delight our eyes;
There
[...] from converse or from social sports,
We drink delight less dash'd than that of courts.
But when more sober cares the hour requires,
Faith to his cell of solitude retires;
His bed, his books, his paper, pen and ink,
Present the choice, to rest, to read, or think.
Yet what would all avail to prompt the smile,
Cheer the sad breast, or the dull hour beguile;
If well-bred passengers, discreet and free,
Were not at hand to mix in social glee?
Such my companions—such the muse shall tell,
Him first, whom once you knew in war so well,
Our Polish friend,
† whose name still sounds so hard,
To make it rhyme would puzzle any bard;
That youth, whom bays and laurels early crown'd,
For virtue, science, arts, and arms, renown'd,
Next him, behold, to grace our watry scene,
An honest German lifts his generous mein;
Him Carolina sends to Europe's shore,
Canals and inland waters to explore;
From thence return'd, she hope's to see her tide,
In commerce rich, thro' ampler channels glide.
Next comes the bleak Quebec's well natur'd son;
And last, our naval chief, the friend of
[...];
Whose plain, frank manners, form'd on sickle seas,
Are cheerful still, and always aim to please:
Nor less the other chiefs their zeal display,
To make us happy as themselves are gay.
Sever'd from all society but this,
Half way from either world we plough the abyss:
Save the small sea bird and the fish that flies,
On you blue waves no object meets my eyes.
No
[...] has the insidious book, with lutes, beguil'd
Of peopled ocean scarce a single child.
Nought could avail thy beauteous transient hue;
As o'er the deck, in dying pang you roll'd,
Wrapt in gay rain-bows and pellucid gold.
Now see that wand'rer bird, fatigued with flight
O'er many a watry league, is forc'd to light
High on the mast,—the bird our seamen take,
Tho' scar'd, too tir'd its refuge to forsake:
Fear not sweet bird, nor judge our motives ill,
No barb'rous man, now means thy blood to spill,
Or hold thee cag'd; soon as we reach the shore,
Free shalt thou fly, and gaily sing and soar!
Another grateful sight now cheers the eye,
At first a snow-white spot in yon clear sky;
Then thro' the optic tube a ship appears,
And now distinct athwart the billows veers;
Daughter of ocean, made to bless mankind!
Go, range wide waters on the wings of wind;
With friendly intercourse far climes explore,
Their produce barter and increase their store;
Ne'er saw my eye so fair a pageant swim,
As thou appear'st, in all thy gallant trim!
Amus'd with trivial things, reclin'd at ease,
While the swift bark divides the summer seas;
Your bard (for past neglect to make amends)
Now writes to you, anon to other friends.
Anon the scene, in Europe's polish'd climes,
Will give new themes for philosophic rhymes,
Ope broader fields for reason to explore,
Improvements vast of scientific lore!
Thro' nations blest with peace, but strong in arms,
Refin'd in arts, and apt for social charms,
Your friend will stray, and strive, with studious care,
To mark whate'er is useful, great, or rare;
[Page 140] Search the small shades of manners in their lives,
What policy prevails, how commerce thrives;
How morals form of happiness the base,
How others differ from Columbia's race;
And, gleaning knowledge from the realms he rov'd,
Bring home a patriot heart, enlarg'd, improv'd.
A SONG.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
IT rains, it rains, my fair,
Come drive your white sheep fast:
To shelter quick repair,
Haste, shepherdess, make haste.
I hear—the water pours,
With patt'ring on the vines:
See here! see here! it lours—
See there the lightning shines.
The thunder dost thou hear?
Loud roars the rushing storm:
Take (while we run, my dear)
Protection from my arm.
I see our cot, ah hold!
Mama and sister Nance,
To open our sheep-fold,
Most cheerily advance.
God bless my mother dear,
My sister Nancy too!
I bring my sweet heart here,
To sleep to night with you.
[Page 141]
Go, dry yourself, my friend,
And make yourself at home—
Sister, on her attend:
Come in, sweet lambkins, come.
Mama, let's take good care
Of all her pretty sheep;
Her little lamb we'll spare
More straw whereon to sleep.
'Tis done—now let us haste
To her;—you here, my fair!
Undress'd, oh what a waist!
My mother, look you there.
Let's sup; come take this place,
You shall be next to me,
This pine-knot's cheerful blaze
Shall shine direct on thee.
Come taste this cream so sweet,
This syllabub so warm;
Alas! you do not cat:
You feel ev'n yet the storm.
'Twas wrong—I press'd too much
Your steps, when on the way:
But here, see here your couch—
There sleep till dawn of day.
With gold the mountain tips:—
Good night, good night, my dove:
Now let me on your lips,
Imprint one kiss of love.
Mama and I will come,
When morn begins to shine,
To see my sweet-heart home,
And ask her hand for mine.
[Page 142]
EPITAPH On a Patient killed by a Cancer Quack.
HERE lies a fool fiat on his back,
The victim of a Cancer Quack;
Who lost his money and his life,
By plaster, caustic, and by knife.
The case was this—a pimple rose,
South-east a little of his nose;
Which daily redden'd and grew bigger,
As too much drinking gave it vigour:
A score of gossips soon ensure
Full three score diff'rent modes of cure:
But yet the full-fed pimple still
Defied all petticoated skill:
When fortune led him to peruse
A hand-bill in the weekly news;
Sign'd by six fools of diff'rent sorts,
All cur'd of cancers made of warts;
Who recommend, with due submission,
This cancer-monger as magician;
Fear wing'd his flight to find the quack,
And prove his cancer-curing knack:
But on his way he found another,—
A second advertising brother:
But as much like him as an owl
Is unlike every handsome fowl;
Whose fame had rais'd as broad a fog,
And of the two the greater hog:
Who us'd a still more magic plaster,
That sweat forsooth, and cur'd the faster.
This doctor view'd, with moony eyes
And scowl'd up face, the pimple's size;
Then christen'd it in solemn answer,
And cried,"This pimple's name is CANCER."
[Page 143]
But courage, friend, I see you're pale,
My sweating plasters never fail;
I've
[...] hundreds out with
[...]ase,
With roots as long as maple trees,
And never
[...] in all my trial—
Behold these samples here in
[...]
Preserv'd to shew my wond'rous
[...],
Just as my liver
[...]—in spirits.
For twenty
[...] the cure is done—
The bargain struck, the plaster on,
Which gnaw'd the cancer at its leisure,
And pain'd his face above all measure.
But still the pimple spread the faster,
And swell'd, like toad that meets disaster.
Thus foil'd, the doctor gravely swore,
It was a right rose cancer sore;
Then stack his probe beneath the beard,
And shew'd them where the leaves appear'd;
And rais'd the patient's drooping spirits,
By praising up the plaster's merits—
Quoth he,The roots now scarcely stick—
I'll fetch her out like crab or tick;
And make it rendezvous, next trial,
With six more plagues, in my old vial.
Then purg'd him pale with jalap drastic,
And next applies th' infernal caustic.
But yet, this semblance bright of hell
Serv'd but to make the patient yell;
And, gnawing on with fiery pace,
Devour'd one broadside of his face—
' Courage, 'tis done,' the doctor cried,
And quick th' incision knife applied:
That with three cuts made such a hole,
Out flew the patient's tortur'd
[...]oul!
Go, readers, gentle, eke and simple,
If you have wart,
[...]corn, or pimple;
To quack infallible apply;
Here's room enough for you to lie.
His skill triumph but still prevails,
For DEATH's a cure that never fails.
[Page 144]
THE HYPOCRITE'S HOPE.
BLEST is the man, who from the womb,
To faintship him betakes,
And when too soon his child shall come,
A long confession makes.
When next in Broad Church-alley, he
Shall take his former place,
Relates his past iniquity,
And consequential grace.
Declares how long by Satan vex'd,
From truth he did depart,
And tells the time, and tells the text,
That smote his flinty heart.
He stands in half-way cov'nant sure;
Full five long years or more,
One foot in church's pale secure,
The other out of door.
Then riper grown in gifts and grace,
With ev'ry rite complies,
And deeper lengthens down his face,
And higher rolls his eyes.
He tones like Pharisee sublime,
Two lengthy prayers a day;
The same that he from early prime,
Had heard his father say.
Each Sunday perch'd on bench of pew,
To passing priest he bows,
Then loudly 'mid the quav'ring crew,
Attunes his vocal nose.
[Page 145]
With awful look then rises
[...]low,
And pray'rful visage sour,
More fit to fight the apostate foe,
Than seek a pard'ning power.
Then nodding hears the sermon next,
From priest haranguing loud;
And doubles down each quoted text,
From Genesis to Jude.
And when the priest holds forth address,
To old ones born anew,
With holy pride and wrinkled face,
He rises in his pew.
Good works he careth nought about,
But
faith alone will seek,
While Sunday's pieties blot out
The knaveries of the week.
He makes the poor his daily pray'r,
Yet drives them from his board:
And though to his own good he swear,
Thro' habit breaks his word.
This man advancing fresh and fair,
Shall all his race complete;
And wave at last his hoary hair,
Arrived in Deacon's seat.
There shall he all church honours have,
By joyous brethren given—
Till priest in fun'ral sermon grave.
Shall send him straight to heaven.
[Page 146]
AN INTENDED INSCRIPTION,
Written f
[...] the Monument on Beacon-Hill, in Boston, and addressed to the Passenger.
WHERE stretch'd your sail, beneath what foreign sky
Did lov'lier landscapes ever charm your eye?
Could fancy's fairy pencil, Stranger! say,
E'en dipt in dreams, a nobler scene pourtray?
Behold yon vales, whose skirts elude your view,
And mountains fading to aërial blue!
Along their bow'ry shades how healthy toil
Alternate sports, or tends the mellow soil.
See
[...] towns mid groves and gardens rise,
And eastward,—where the stretching ocean lies,
[...]o! our fair capital sublimes the scene,
New
[...] pride, and ocean's future queen;
How o'er the tradeful port august she smiles,
[...]er sea like haven boasts an hundred isles,
Whence hardy commerce swells the lofty sails
O'er arctic seas, and mocks the polar gales,
Thence tides of wealth the wafting breezes bring,
And hence e'en culture feels its vital spring.
These scenes our Sires from rugged nature wrought,
Since—what dire wars their patriotic race have fought!
Witness yon tracts, where first the Briton bled,
Driv'n by our youth redoubted PI
[...]RCY fled:
There BREED ascends, and BUNKER'S bleeding steeps,
Still o'er whose brow abortive Vict'ry weeps;
What Trophies since! the gaze of after times,
Rear'd
Freedom's empire o'er our happy climes!
[Page 147]
But hence, fond Stranger, take a nobler view,
See yon shorn elm,
* whence all these glories grew.
Here, where the armed foe presumptuous trod.
Trampled our shrines, and even mouth'd our GOD,
His vengeful hand, deep as the parent-root,
Lopt each grown branch, and ev'ry suckling shoot;
Because beneath her consecrated shade
Our earliest vows to LIBERTY were paid.
High from
[...]er Altar blew the heaven-caught fire,
While all our wealth o'erhung the kindling pyre.
How at the deed the Nations stood aghast,
As on the pile our plighted lives we cast!
O! if an alien from our fair domains,
The blood of
Britain, hapless, taint your veins,
Pace o'er that hallow'd ground with awful tread,
And tears, atoning, o'er you
[...]
[...]ick shed;
But if, American! your lineage springs,
From Sires, who scorn the pedigree of kings,
A Georgian born you breathe the tepid air,
Or on the breezy banks of
Delaware,
Or hardy
Hampshire claim your haughty birth,
Revere yon root, and kiss its nurt'ring earth:
O be its fibres fed by flowing springs,
Whence rose our empires o'er the thrones of kings;
E'en now descend, adore the dear remain,
Where first rear'd Liberty's illumin'd fane,
There all her race, while time's revolve shall come,
As pilgrims flock to MECCA'S idol'd tomb.
DEPREDATIONS AND DESTRUCTION OF THE ALGERINES.
BUT what dark prospect interrupts our joy?
What arm, presumptuous, da
[...]es our trade annoy?
[Page 148] Great God! the rovers, who insult thy waves,
Have seiz'd our ships, and made our freemen slaves;
And hark! the cries of that disastrous
[...]and
Float o'er the main, and reach Columbia's strand—
The wild alarm from ocean spreads around,
And circling echoes propagate the sound,
From smooth Saluda, fed with silver rills,
Up the Blue-ridge, o'er Alleganean hills,
To where Niagara tremendous roars,
As o'er white-sheeted rocks his torrent pours,
(The dreadful cataract whole regions shakes
Of boundless woods and congregated lakes!)
Thro' farthest Kennebeck, adown whose tide,
The future ships, unfashion'd, monstrous glide,
On whose rough banks, where stood the savage den,
The axe is heard and busy hum of men—
But hark! their labours and their accents cease,
A warning voice has interdicted peace,
Has spread thro' cities, gain'd remotest farms,
And fir'd th' indignant states with new alarms:
The sickly flame in ev'ry bosom burns,
Like gloomy torches in sepulchral urns.
Why sleep'st thou, Barlow, child of genius? why
Seest thou, blest Dwight, our land in sadness lie?
And where is Trumbull, earliest boast of fame?
'Tis yours, ye bards, to wake the smother'd flame
—To you, my dearest friends! the task belongs,
To rouse your country with heroic songs;
For me, tho' glowing with conceptions warm,
I find no equal words to give them form:
Pent in my breast, the mad'ning tempest raves,
Like prison'd fires in Etna's burning caves:
For me why will no thund'ring numbers roll?
Why, niggard language! dost thou balk my soul?
Come thou sweet Feeling of another's woe,
That mak'st the heart to melt, the eye to flow!
Come thou, keen Feeling, liveliest sense of wrong
Aid Indignation, and inspire my song!
[Page 149] Teach me the woes of slavery to paint,
Beneath whose weight our captur'd freemen saint!
Teach me in Shades of Stygian night to trace,
In characters of hell the pirate race!
Teach me prophetic, to disclose their doom,
A new born nation trampling on their tomb!
What mortal terrors all my senses seize,
Possess my heart and life's warm current freeze?
Why grow my eyes with thick suff
[...]s;ions dim?
What visionary forms before me swim?
Where am I? Heav'ns! what mean these dol'rous cries!
And what these horrid scenes that round me rise?
Heard ye the groans, those messengers of pain?
Heard ye the clanking of the captive's chain?
Heard ye your free born sons their fate deplore,
Pale in their chains, and lab'ring at the oar?
Saw ye the dungeon, in whose blackest cell,
That house of woe, your friends, your children dwell?
Or saw ye those, who dread the tort'ring hour,
Crush'd by the rigours of a tyrant's pow'r?
Saw ye the shrinking slave, th' uplifted lash,
The frowning butcher, and the red'ning gash?
Saw ye the naked limbs, writh'd to and fro,
In wild conto
[...]sions of convulsing woe?
Felt ye the blood, with pangs alternate roll'd,
Thrill thro' your veins, and freeze with death-like cold,
Or sire, as down the tear of pity stole,
Your manly breasts, and harrow up the soul?
Some guardian pow'r in mercy intervene,
Hide from my dizzy eyes the cruel scene!
Oh stop the shrieks that tear my tortur'd ear!
Ye visions, vanish! dungeons, disappear!
Ye fetters, burst! ye monsters fierce, avaunt!
Infernal furies on those monsters haunt!
Pursue the foot-steps of that miscreant crew,
Pursue in flames, with hell-born
[...]age pursue!
[Page 150] Shed such dire curses as all utterance mock,
Whose plagues astonish, and whose horrors shock!
Great maledictions of eternal wrath,
Which like heav'n's vial'd vengeance, singe and scathe!
Transfix with scorpion stings the callous heart!
Make blood-shot eye balls from their sockets start!
For balm, pour brimstone in their wounded soul;
Then ope, perdition, and ingulf them whole!
How long will heav'n restrain its bursting ire,
Nor rain blue tempests of devouring fire?
How long shall widows weep their sons in vain,
The prop of years in slav'ry's iron chain!
How long the love sick maid, unheeded, rove
The sounding shore, and call her absent love;
With wasting tears and sighs his lot bewail,
And seem to see him in each coming sail?
How long the merchant turn his failing eyes,
In desperation on the seas and skies,
And ask his captur'd ships, his ravish'd good,
With frantic ravings, of the heav'ns and floods?
How long, Columbians dear! will ye complain
Of these curst insults on the open main?
In timid sloth shall injur'd brav'ry sleep?
Awake! awake! avengers of the deep!
Revenge! revenge! the voice of nature cries:
Awake to glory, and to vengeance rise!
To arms! to arms! ye bold indignant bands!
'Tis heav'n inspires; 'tis God himself commands.
Save human nature from such deadly harms,
By force of reason, or by force of arms.
O ye great pow'rs, who passports basely crave,
From Afric's lords, to sail the midland wave—
Great fallen pow'rs, whose gems and golden bribes
Buy paltry passports from these savage tribes—
Ye whose fine purples, silks, and stuffs of gold,
(An annual tribute) their dark limbs infold—
Ye whose mean policy for them equips,
To plague mankind, the predatory ships—
[Page 151] Why will ye buy your infamy so dear?
Is it self-interest or a dastard fear?
Is it because ye meanly think to gain
A richer commerce on th' infested main?
Is it because ye meanly wish to see
Your rivals chain'd, yourselves ignobly free?
Who gave commission to these monsters fierce,
To hold in chains the humbled universe?
Would God, would nature, would their conqu'ring swords,
Without your meanness, make them ocean's lords?
What! do ye fear? nor dare their pow'r provoke?
Would not that bubble burst beneath your stroke?
And shall the weak remains of barb'rous rage,
Insulting, triumph o'er th' enlighten'd age?
Do ye not feel confusion, horror, shame,
To bear a hateful, tributary name?
Will ye not aid to wipe the foul disgrace,
And break the fetters from the human race?
Then, though unaided by these mighty pow'rs,
Ours be the toil; the danger, glory ours:
Then, O my friends, by heav'n ordain'd to free,
From tyrant rage, the long-infested sea—
Then let us firm, though solitary, stand,
The sword, and olive-branch in either hand:
An equal peace propose with reason's voice,
Or rush to arms, if arms should be their choice.
Stung by their crimes, can aught your vengeance stay?
Can terror daunt you? or can death dismay?
The soul enrag'd, can threats, can tortures tame,
Or the dank dungeon quench th' etherial flame?
Have ye not once to heav'n's dread throne appeal'd,
And has not heav'n your independence seal'd?
What was the pow'r ye dar'd that time engage,
And brave the terrors of its hostile rage?
Was it not Britain, great in warlike toils?
The first of nations, as the queen of isles—
Britain, whose fleets, that rul'd the briny surge,
Made navies tremble to its utmost verge,
[Page 152] Whose single arm held half the world at odds,
Great nurse of sages, bards, and demi-gods!
But what are these, whose threat'nings round you burst?
Of men the dregs, the feeblest, vilest, worst;
These are the pirates from the
[...]arb'ry strands,
Audacious miscreants, fierce, yet feeble band!
Who, impious, dare (no provocation giv'n)
Insult the rights of man—the laws of heav'n!
Wilt thou not rise, O God, to plead our cause,
Assert thine honour, and defend thy laws!
Wilt thou not bend thine awful throne to hear
The pris'ner's cry, and stop the falling tear!
Wilt thou not strike the guilty race with dread,
On impious realms thy tenfold fury shed!
Oh thou Most High, be Innocence thy care,
Oh make thy red right arm of vengeance bare,
Resume in wrath the thunders thou hast hurl'd,
To blight the tenants of the nether world!
Thou God of hosts, our stedfast councils guide,
Lead forth our arms, and crush the sons of pride!
But hark! the trumps, as if by whirlwinds blown,
Sound from cold Lawrence to the burning zone;
Thy cause, Humanity, that swells their breath,
Wakes in each bosom cool contempt of death.
By rumbling drums, from distant regions call'd,
Men, scorning pirate rage, start unappall'd:
With eye balls flaming, cheeks of crimson fl
[...]sh,
From rice green fields, and fur-clad mountains, rush
High-mettled youth—unus'd to sights of stain,
Of hostile navies, or the stormy main—
Enrag'd, they leave unfinish'd furrows far,
To dare the deep, and toil in fields of war:
From dreams of peace, stern visag'd vet'rans wake,
Their rattling arms, with grasp indignant, shake;
Those arms their pride, their country's gift, what day
To independence they had op'd the way;
[Page 153] Frowning wide ruin, terrible they rise,
Like battling thunders bursting from the skies.
From Erie's inland vales, unnam'd in song,
In native fierceness pour the hunter throng;
Beneath their rapid march realms roll behind;
Their uncomb'd locks loose floating on the wind;
Coarse their worn garbs—they place their only pride
In the dread rifle, oft in battle tried;
With aim unbalk'd, whose leaden vengeance sings,
Sure as the dart the king of terrors flings;
So erst, brave Morgan, thy bold hunters sped—
Such light-arm'd youths the gallant Fayette led,
Ere Steuben brought the Prussian lore from far,
Or Knox created all the stores of war.
Thro' tented fields impatient ardour spreads—
Rous'd by the trump, the coursers rear their heads,
Snuff in the tainted gale the sulph'rous grain,
Responsive neigh, and prance the wide champaign.
Now preparation forms the gleaming blade;
In moulds capacious, pond'rous deaths are made:
In crouded docks, th' incessant labour glows:
The tool resounds—the wond'rous structure grows
—Propp'd on the stocks, stupendous navies stand,
Raise their huge bulks, and darken all the strand;
Till tow'ring fleets, from diff'rent harbours join'd,
Float on the pinions of the fav'ring wind:
Tall groves of masts, like mountain forests rise;
Wav'd high in air, the crimson streamer flies:
To prosp'rous gales the canvas wide unfurl'd,
Bears the rous'd vengeance round the watry world:
See! ocean whitens with innum'rous sails;
Be still, ye storms! breathe soft, ye friendly gales!
See! where Columbia's mighty squadron runs
To climes illum
[...]d by other stars and suns;
Gains the deep streight; ascends the midland wave,
Of ancient fleets th' unfathomable grave!
When Freedom's ardent chiefs, with eager eye,
Dim thro' the mist the corsair force descry;
[Page 154] Their cloudlike sails hang in the distant heav'n,
Like shad'wy vapours of ascending ev'n—
Here o'er the topmast, flames th' imperial star,
There the red crescent leads the coming war.
Th' obstructions clear'd—obliquely on the gales—
With open ports—half-furl'd the flapping sails—
Near and more near, athwart the bill'wy tide,
In terrors arm'd, the floating bulwarks glide;
Tier pil'd o'er tier, the sleeping thunder lies,
Anon to rend the shudd'ring main and skies.
Ere yet they shut the narrow space between,
Begins the prelude of a bloodier scene—
With sudden touch, deep-throated engines roar,
Pierce heav'n's blue vault, and dash the waves to shore;
Then mad'ning billows mock the fearful sound,
While o'er their surface globes of iron bound;
Unknown concussions rolling o'er their heads,
Far fly the monsters round their coral beds.
The battle closes—fiercer fights begin—
And hollow hulls reverberate the din:
The green waves blacken, as the tempest lours,
Chain bolts and langrage rain in dreadful show'rs;
Ship lock'd to ship, hangs o'er the foaming flood,
The black sides wrapt in flames, the decks in blood:
From both the lines, now smoke, now flames aspire,
Now clouds they roll, now gleam a ridge of fire:
On hostile prows, Columbia's heroes stand,
Conq'ring 'mid death, or dying sword in hand:
Promiscuous cries, with shouts confus'dly drown'd,
In the wild uproar, swell the dol'rous found:
And nought distinct is heard, and nought is seen,
Where wreaths of vapour hov'ring intervene,
Save when black grains expand imprison'd air,
The thunders wake, and shoot a livid glare:
Then ghastly forms are seen by transient gleams,
The dead and wounded drench'd in purple streams.
Now helmless ships in devious routes are driv'n,
The cordage torn, the masts to atoms riv'n;
[Page 155] Now here they glow, with curling waves of sire;
In one explosion total crews expire.
Here barks relinquish'd, burnt to ocean's brink,
Half veil'd in crimson clouds begin to sink.
With men submerg'd, there frailer fragments float,
Here yawning gul
[...]s absorb th' o'erloaded boat:
There red-hot balls, that g
[...]ze the waters, hiss,
And plunge the gallies down the dread abyss.
[...]ere shatter'd limbs—there garments dipt in blood,
With mingling crimson stain the soughten flood,
While Afric's pirates, shrinking from the day,
By terror urg'd, drag wounded hulks away.
As when two adverse storms, impetuous driv'n,
From east and west, sail up the azure heav'n,
In flaming fields of day together run,
Explode their fires, and blot with night the sun—
The eastern cloud, its flames expir'd at last,
Flies from the lightning of the western blast:
So fled the corsair line the blighting stroke
Of Freedom's thunder—so their battle broke—
As if by heav'n's own arm subdu'd at length,
Their courage perish'd, wither'd all their strength.
Oh then let vict'ry stimulate the chace,
To free from shameful chains the human race,
To drive these pirates from the insulted waves,
To ope their dungeons to despairing slaves,
To snatch from impious hands, and break the rod,
Which erst defac'd the likeness of a God:
Then seize th' occasion, call the furious gales,
Crack bending oars, stretch wide inflated sails;
On rapid wings of wind the tempest bear,
Make Death's deep tube with horrid lightnings glare:
Like evanescent mists dispel their hosts,
And with Destruction's bosom sweep their coasts.
Woe to proud Algiers; to your princes woe!
Your pride is falling with your youths laid low—
Woe to your people, woe distress, and fears!
Your hour is come, to drink the cup of tears:
[Page 156] A ghastly paleness gathers on your cheeks,
While Mem'ry haunts your ears with captive shrieks;
Then stifled Conscience, wak'ning, dares to cry,
"Think on your crimson crimes, despair, and die."
Then ruin comes, with fire, and sword, and blood,
And men shall ask, where once your cities stood?
'Tis done! Behold th' uncheery prospects rise;
Unwonted glooms the silent coasts surprise:
The heav'ns with sable clouds are overcast,
And death-like sounds ride on the hollow blast—
The rank grass rustling to the passing gale:
Ev'n now of men the chearful voices fail—
No busy marts appear, no crouded ports,
No rural dances, and no splendid courts;
In halls, so late with feasts, with music crown'd,
No revels sport, nor mirthful cymbals sound.
Fastidious pomp! how are thy pageants fled!
How sleep the fallen in their lowly bed!
Their cultur'd fields to desolation turn'd,
The buildings levell'd, and th' enclosures burn'd.
Where the fair garden bloom'd, the thorn succeeds,
'Mid noxious brambles and envenom'd weeds.
O'er fallow plains, no vagrant flocks are seen,
To print with tracks, or crop, the dewy green:
The Plague, where thousands felt his mortal stings,
In vacant air his shafts promiscuous flings;
Here walks in darkness, thirsting still for gore,
And raves, unsated, round the desert shore.
The sandy waste, th' immeasurable heath,
Alone are prowl'd by animals of death.
Here tawney lions guard their goary den;
There birds of prey usurp the haunts of men:
Thro' dreary wilds, a mournful echo calls,
From mould'ring tow'rs and desolated walls.
Where the wan light thro' broken windows gleams,
The fox looks ou
[...], the boding raven screams;
While trembling travellers in wild amaze,
On wrecks of state, and piles of ruin gaze.
[Page 157]
The direful signs, which mark the day of doom,
Shall scarcely scatter such portentous gloom—
When, rock'd the ground, convuls'd each roaring flood,
The stars shall fall, the sun be turn'd to blood,
The globe itself dissolve in fluid fire,
Time be no more, and man's whole race expire.
Thus hath thy hand, great God! thro' ev'ry age,
When ripe for ruin, pour'd on man thy rage:
So didst thou erst on Babylon let fall
The plagues thy hand inscrib'd upon the wall:
So didst thou give Sidonia's sons for food,
To cow'ring eagles, drunk with human blood;
Seal in thy wrath imperial Salem's doom,
And sweep her millions to a common tomb.
But let us turn from objects that disgust,
The ghosts of empires and of men accurst:
Turn we from sights that pain the feeling breast,
To where new nations populate the west:
For there, anon, shall new auroras rise,
And, streaming, brighten up th' Atlantic skies,
Back on the solar path, with living ray,
Heav'n's own pure splendours pour a tide of day.
And lo! successful from heroic toils,
With glory cover'd, and enrich'd with spoils,
With garlands waving o'er these spoils of war,
The pomp preceded by th' imperial star,
' Mid shouts of joy, from liberated slaves,
In triumph ride th' avengers of the wa
[...]es.
And see, they gain Columbia's happy strand,
Where anxious crouds in expectation stand.
See raptur'd nations hail the kindred race,
And court the heroes to their fond embrace:
In fond embraces strain'd, the captive clings,
And feels and looks unutterable things.
See there, the widow finds her darling son,
See, in each others' arms the lovers run,
With joy tumultuous their swoll'n bosoms glow,
And one short moment pays for years of woe!
[Page 158] When grateful sports and festal songs proclaim
Their joys domestic, and their distant fame.
Then glorious days, by hallow'd bards foretold,
Shall far surpass the fabled age of gold;
The human mind its noblest pow'rs display,
And knowledge, rising to meridian day,
Shine like the lib'ral sun; th' illumin'd youth
By fair discussion find immortal truth.
Why turns the horizon red? the dawn is near:
Infants of light, ye harbingers, appear!
With tenfold brightness gild the happier age,
And light the actors o'er a broader stage!
This drama closing—ere th' approaching end,
See heav'n's perennial year to earth descend.
Then wake, Columbians! fav'rites of the skies,
Awake to glory and to rapture rise!
Behold the dawn of your ascending same,
Illume the nations with a purer flame;
Progressive splendours spread o'er ev'ry clime,
Then rapt in visions of unfolding time,
Pierce midnight clouds, that hide the dark abyss,
And see, in embryo, scenes of future bliss!
See days, and months, and years there roll in night,
While age, succeeding age, ascends to light,
Till your blest offspring countless as the stars,
In open ocean quench the torch of wars;
With god-like aim, in one firm union bind,
The common good and int'rest of mankind;
Unbar the gates of commerce for their race,
And build the gen'ral peace on freedom's broadest base.
A WINTER PIECE.
SURLY Winter now returns;
Nature droops her head, and mourns:
[Page 159] Sol's oblique, descending ray,
Lends a faint and transient day;
Night the realms of day invades,
And her dark dominion spreads.
Brooks no more meandering run;
Streams are harden'd into stone;
Where the boatman oft has ply'd,
Pond'rous sleds securely glide.
Naked and deform'd are seen
Meadows lately dress'd in green.
Groves and fields are disarray'd;
Leaves are wither'd, dry'd the blade.
Songsters of the wood are flown,
All their cheerful music gone;
Not a swallow strains his throat,
The lark forgets his sprightly note;
Zephyrs, with their gentle breeze,
Sport no more along the trees:
Winds in angry murmurs howl,
Skies with gathering tempests scowl;
Proudest forests humbly bend;
Thick the woolly flakes descend,
See, how fast the valley fills!
How the driving snow-bank swells!
Batt'ring hail-stones urge the hind,
Refuge in her shed to find;
Trembling stand the hardy steer,
Lowing for the master's care.
Farmers now their stables tend,
And from storms the herds defend;
Load with new—thresh'd grain the floor;
Prudent deal the winter's store;
Shiv'ring from the cold retire;
Heap fresh fuel on the fire;
From the evening borrow day,
Drive the piercing frosts away;
Sit secure within the doors,
And defy the storm that roars;
[Page 160] With a book, or chat, deceive
The slow hours of winter's eve;
Teach the list'ning youths the lore,
Which their grandsires taught before;
And their admiration raise
With good things of ancient days:
Or the works of distant climes,
Or the news of modern times.
Thus dull winter rolls away:
Thus we pass the irksome day.
Ah! a deadlier winter speeds—
Winter which no spring succeeds.
When our blooming youth is gone,
And our frosty age comes on,
Then no more will spring return—
Age is hopeless—age forlorn—
Hopeless?—no—the silver'd head
Shows, the storms of life are fled:
So the sunshine tips the hills,
As it louring clouds dispels.
Happy Christian, who has trod
All the length of virtue's road,
From the goal his eye can cast
Back on storms and dangers past,
And with hope anticipate
Pleasures of the heav'nly state!
When is clos'd this varied scene,
Calmer seasons then begin.
AN INDIAN ECLOGUE.
SCENE, THE BANKS OF THE OHIO.
SCARCE had the morn her orient course begun,
Or early breezes fann'd the rising sun,
[Page 161] When Mingo on Ohio's margin stood,
And told his sorrows to the gliding stood;—
With love of glory would the chiefs inflame
My breast; and lead me to the field of same;
In vain with glee, they show their scalps and sears,
The glorious trophies of their former wars,
On me their praises and reproofs are lost,
No flame but love, but scorching love I boast.
The nimble Lawrah does my breast inspire,
Wakes every sense, and sets me all on fire;
Enraptur'd while I view her yellow neck,
As soft as bear-grease, and as beaver sleek.
From her grey eyes the living lightnings rush.
Like the fresh dew-drops glitt'ring thro' a bush.
But vain my songs re-echo through the shade,
Nor vows, nor tears, can move the haughty maid.
E'en late I met her fainting in the track,
Her child and blanket dangling at her back:
Scarce mov'd her feet beneath the heavy load,
And drops of sweat bedew'd the groaning road.
Yet other nymphs with fruitless ardour burn,
And feel a passion I can ne'er return.
In vain with gifts of fish Agolla strove
To shake my constancy and win my love.
Her rough advances like a skunk I shun,
And from her face with eager footsteps run;
But vain my songs re-echo thro' the grove,
Nor vows, nor tears, the haughty maid can move:
Then cease these fruitless plaints, I'll take my spear,
And thro' the forest chace the shaggy bear;
The bounding buck shall own my oft-try'd art,
And feel this arrow rankling in his heart.
[Page 162]
FUTURE STATE OF THE WESTERN TERRITORY.
THEN oh, my friends! the task of glory done,
Th' immortal prize by your bold efforts won—
Your country's saviours, by her voice confess'd,
While unborn ages rise and call you blest—
Then let us go where happier climes invite,
To midland seas and regions of delight;
With all that's ours, together let us rise,
Seek brighter plains, and more indulgent skies;
Where fair Ohio rolls his amber tide,
And nature blossoms in her virgin pride;
Where all that Beauty's hand can form to please,
Shall crown the toils of war, with rural case.
The shady coverts and the sunny hills,
The gentle lapse of ever-murm'ring
[...]ills,
The loft repose amid the noon-tide bow'rs,
The evening walk along the blushing flow'rs,
The fragrant groves that yield a sweet perfume,
And vernal glories in perpetual bloom,
Await you there: and heav'n shall bless the toll—
Your own the produce—as your own the soil.
No tyrant lord shall grasp a thousand farms,
Curse the mild clime, and spoil its fairest charms:
No blast severe your rip'ning fields deform,
No vollied hail-stones, and no driving storm:
No raging murrain on your cattle seize,
And nature sicken with the dire disease.
But golden years, anew, begin their reigns,
And cloudless sun-shine gild salubrious plains.
Herbs, fruits, and flow'rs shall clothe th' uncultur'd field;
Nectareous juice, the vine and orchard yield;
[Page 163] Rich, dulcet creams, the copious goblets fill;
Delicious honey from the trees distil;
The gardens smile, spontaneous harvests spring,
The woodlands warble, and the vallies sing.
Along the meads, or near the shady groves;
There sport the flocks, there feed the fatt'ning droves;
There strays the steed, through bloomy vales afar,
Who erst mov'd lofty in the ranks of war.
There, free from envy, cank'ring care and strife,
Flow the calm pleasures of domestic life:
There mutual friendship soothes each placid breast,
Blest in themselves, and in each other blest.
From house to house the social glee extends,
For friends in war, in peace are doubly friends:
Their children, taught to emulate their fires,
Catch the warm glow, and feel the kindred fires,
Till by degrees the mingling joys improve,
Grow with their years, and ripen into love:
Nor long the blushing pair in secret sigh,
And drink sweet poison from the love sick eye;
Blest be their lot! when in his eager arms
Th' enamour'd youth folds the fair virgin's charms,
On her ripe lip imprints the burning kiss,
And seals, with hallow'd rites, the nuptial bliss.
Then festal sports the ev'ning hours prolong—
The mazy dance, and the sweet warbling song:
Then each endearment wakes the ravish'd sense
To pure delights, and raptures most intense;
And the pleas'd parent tells his list'ning son,
What wond'rous deeds by him, in youth were done.
No sights of woe, no tort'ring fears annoy
The sweet sensations of the heart-felt joy:
Nor shall the savages, of murd'rous soul,
In painted bands dark to the combat roll,
With midnight orgies, by the gloomy shade,
On the pale victim point the reeking blade;
Or cause the hamlet, lull'd in deep repose,
No more to wake, or wake to ceaseless woes:
[Page 164] For your strong arm the guarded band secures,
And freedom, glory, happiness are yours.
So shall you flourish in unfading prime,
Each age refining thro' the reign of time;
A nobler offspring crown the fond embrace,
A band of heroes and a patriot race:
Not by soft luxury's too dainty food,
Their minds contaminated with their blood,
But like the heirs our great forefathers bred,
By Freedom nurtur'd, and by Temp'rance fed;
Healthful and strong, they turn'd the virgin soil,
The untam'd forest how'd beneath their toil:
At early dawn, they sought the mountain chace,
Or rous'd the Indian from his lurking place;
Curb'd the mad fury of those barb'rous men,
Or dragg'd the wild beast struggling from his den:
To all the vigour of that pristine race,
New charms are added and superior grace.
Then cities rise, and spiry towns increase,
With gilded domes, and ev'ry art of peace.
Then Cultivation shall extend his pow'r,
Rear the green blade, and nurse the tender flow'r;
Make the fair villa, in full splendours smile,
And robe with verdure all the genial soil.
Then shall rich Commerce court the fav'ring gales,
And wond'ring wilds admire the passing sails,
Where the bold ships the stormy Huron brave,
Where wild Ontario rolls the whit'ning wave,
Where fair Ohio his pure current pours,
And Missisippi laves th' extended shores.
Then oh, blest land' with genius unconfin'd,
With polish'd manners, and th' illumin'd mind.
Thy future race on d
[...]ing wing shall soar,
Each science trace, and all the arts explore;
Till bright Religion, beck'ning to the skies,
Shall bid thy sons to endless glories rise.
As round thy clime celestial joy extends,
Thy beauties ripen, and thy pomp ascends;
[Page 165] Farther and farther still, thy blessings roll,
To southern oceans and the northern pole;
Where now the thorn, or tangled thicket grows,
The wilderness shall blossom as the rose,
Unbounded desarts unknown charms assume,
Like Salem flourish, and like Eden bloom.
And oh, may heav'n, when all our tolls are past,
Crown with such happiness our days at last:
So rise our sons, like our great sires of old,
In Freedom's cause unconquerably bold,
With spotless faith, and morals pure, their name
Spread thro' the world and gain immortal fame.
And thou Supreme! whose hand sustains this ball,
Before whose nod, the nations rise and fall,
Propitious smile, and shed diviner charms,
On this blest land, the queen of arts and arms:
Make the great empire rise on wisdom's plan,
The seat of bliss, and last retreat of man.
AMERICAN WINTER.
THEN doubling clouds the wintry skies deform:
And, wrapt in vapour, comes the roaring storm,
With snows surcharg'd, from tops of mountains sails,
Loads leafless trees, and fills the whiten'd vales.
Then Desolation strips the faded plains:
Then tyrant Death o'er vege
[...]ation reigns:
The birds of heav'n to other climes repair,
And deep'ning glooms invade the turbid air.
Nor then, unjoyous, winter's rigours come,
But find them happy and content with home;
[Page 166] Their gran'ries fill'd—the task of culture past—
Warm at their fire, they hear the howling blast,
With patt'ring rain and snow, or driving sleet,
Rave idly loud, and at their window beat:
Safe from its rage regardless of its roar,
In vain the tempest rattles at the door—
The same brutes shelter'd and the feather'd brood
From them, more provident, demand their food.
'Tis then the time from hoarding cribs to feed
The ox laborious, and the noble steed:
'Tis then the time, to tend the bleating fold,
To strow with litter, and to fence from cold.
The cattle fed—the fuel pil'd within—
At setting day, the blissful hours begin:
'Tis then, sole owner of his little cot,
The farmer feels his independent lot;
Hears with the crackling blaze, that lights the wall,
The voice of gladness and of nature call,
Beholds his children play, their mother smile,
And tastes with them the fruit of summer's toil.
From stormy heav'ns, the mantling clouds unroll'd,
The sky is bright, the air serenely cold.
The keen north-west, that heaps the drifted snows,
For months entire o'er frozen regions blows:
Man braves his blast; his gelid breath inhales;
And feels more vig'rous as the frost prevails.
Th' obstructed path beneath the frequent tread,
Yields a smooth crystal to the flying steed.
'Tis then full oft, in arts of love untry'd
The am'rous stripling courts his future bride;
And oft, beneath the broad moon's paler day,
The village pairs ascend the rapid sleigh;
With jocund sounds impel th' enliven'd steed—
Say ye, who know their joys, the lulling speed,
At ev'ry bridge the tributary kiss,
Can courtly balls exceed their rustic bliss?
[Page 167]
ON LOVE AND THE AMERICAN FAIR.
O THOU sweet passion, whose blest charm connects
In heav'n's own ties, the strong and feebler sex!
Shed thy soft empire o'er the willing mind,
Exalt, adorn, and purify mankind!
All nature feels thy pow'r. The vocal grove
With air borne melody awakes to love;
To love the boldest tenants of the sky,
To love the little birds, extatic, fly;
To love submit the monsters of the main,
And ev'ry beast that haunts the desert plain:
But man, alone, the brightest flame inspires,
A spark enkindled from celestial fires.
Hail, hallow'd wedlock! purest, happiest state,
Thy untry'd raptures let my song relate:
Give me, ere long, thy mysteries to prove,
And taste, as well as sing, the sweets of love!
Ye blooming daughters of the western world,
Whose graceful locks by artless hands are curl'd,
Whose limbs of symmetry, and snowy breast,
Allure to love, in simple neatness drest;
Beneath the veil of modesty, who hide
The boast of nature and of virgin pride—
(For beauty needs no meretricious art
To find a passage to the op'ning heart)
Oh make your charms ev'n in my song admir'd,
My song immortal by your charms inspir'd.
Tho' lavish nature sheds each various grace,
That forms the figure or that decks the
[...]ace—
Though Health, with Innocence, and Glee, the while,
Dance in their eye, and wanton in their smile—
[Page 168] Tho' mid the lily's white, unfolds the rose,
As on their cheek the bud of Beauty blows,
Spontaneous blossom of the transient flush,
Which blows and reddens to a scarlet blush,
What time the maid, unread in flames and darts,
First feels of love the palpitating starts,
Feels from the heart, life's quicken'd currents glide,
Her bosom heaving with the bounding tide—
Though sweet their lips, their features more than fair—
Though curls luxuriant of untortur'd hair
Grow long, and add unutterable charms,
While ev'ry look enraptures and alarms;
Yet something still beyond th' exterior form,
With goodness fraught, with animation warm,
Inspires their actions: dignifies their mien;
Gilds ev'ry hour; and beautifies each scene.
'Tis those perfections of superior
[...]ind,
The moral beauties which adorn the mind;
'Tis those enchanting sounds mellifluous hung,
In words of truth and kindness on their tongue—
'Tis delicacy gives their charms new worth,
And calls the loveliness of beauty forth;
'Tis the mild influence beaming from their eyes,
Like vernal sun-beams, round coerulian skies;
Bright emanations of the spotless soul,
Which warm, and cheer, and vivify the whole!
Here the fair sex an equal honour claims,
Wakes chaste desire, nor burns with lawless flames;
No eastern manners, here, consign the charms
Of beauteous slaves to some loath'd master's arms:
No lovely maid in wedlock e'er was fold
By parents base, for mercenary gold;
Nor forc'd the hard alternative to try,
To live dishonour'd, or with hunger d
[...]e,
Here, uncontrol'd, and foll'wing nature's voice,
The happy lovers make th' unchanging choice,
While mutual passions in their bosoms glow,
While fof
[...] confessions in their kisses flow,
[Page 169] While their free hands in plighted faith are giv'n,
Their vows, accordant, reach approving heav'n
Nor here the wedded fair in splendour vie,
To shine the idols of the public eye;
Nor place their happiness, like Europe's dames,
In balls and masquerades, in plays and games;
Each home-felt bliss exchang'd for foreign sports,
A round of pleasures, or th' intrigues of courts;
Nor seek of government to guide the plan,
And wrest his bold prerogatives from man.
What though not form'd in Affectation's school,
Nor taught the wanton eye to roll by rule,
Nor how to prompt the glance, the frown, the smile,
Or practice all the little arts of guile—
What though not taught the use of female arms,
Nor cloth'd in panoply of conqu'ring charms,
Like some fine garnish'd heads—th' exterior fair,
In paints, cosmetics, powder, borrow'd hair:
Yet theirs are pleasures of a diff'rent kind,
Delights at home, more useful, more refin'd:
Theirs are th' attentions, theirs the smiles that please,
With hospitable cares and modest ease:
Their youthful taste, improv'd by finer arts,
Their minds embellish'd, and refin'd their hearts—
'Tis theirs to act, in still, sequester'd life,
The glorious parts of parent, friend, and wife:
What nameless grace, what unknown charm is theirs,
To soothe their partners, and divide their cares,
Calm raging pain, delay the parting breath,
And light a smile on the wan cheek of death!
BENEVOLENCE.
WIDE as the sun his bright dominion spreads,
Heav'n-born Benevolence her bounty sheds.
[Page 170] She, meek ey'd goddess, quits th' angelic sphere,
To banish grief, and dry the human tear.
Plenty's rich urn her willing arms sustain,
Life, Hope, and Joy, exulting in her train.
Her ear is open to the orphan's cry,
Her soul expanding, as the poor pass by.
From her bless'd tongue, the words of manna flow,
And carry courage to desponding Woe.
Objects of aid she seeks, through all the land,
Diffusing bounty with a Saviour's hand.
Thro' prison-bars she darts a pitying eye,
Her heart, responsive, echoes sigh for sigh:
Nor scorns she ev'n the malefactor's chain:
She mourns his guilt—but mitigates his pain.
The wretch she asks not, in what climate bred,
To what profession or religion wed;
That's not the subject of her mission there—
To succour all who want, is all her care.
With Love's apology and Candour's veil,
The multitude of errors to conceal—
The long-elapsed inj'ry to forget,
And, as the debtor weeps, forgive the debt—
Full tides of renovating hopes to roll
Thro' the dry channels of the feverish soul—
These are, O bright Benevolence, thy ways,
And these the solid basis of thy praise!
When Caesar's fame, and Mal
[...]o's deeds are past,
Th' effects of thy philanthropy shall last.
In nature's wreck, the juster fates shall see
Distinguish'd worth; and fix their eyes on thee;
A preference far thy honest heart shall find,
Before the proud destroyers of mankind.
Their lapsing honours shall forbear to save:
But thy blest name shall triumph o'er the grave.
[Page 171]
THE OLD SOLDIER.
‘"Pity the sorrows of a poor old man."’
CLEAR was the blue expanse—the day serene—
All nature wore an universal green:
Smooth pass'd fair Schuylkill's wave, delightful flood!
As, musing, on its verdant banks I stood,
There wrapp'd in praise, O bounteous God! to thee,
Who blest this happy land with liberty:
And thou
*, the instrument in Virtue's cause,
Who bravely freed us from oppressive laws!
An aged soldier in a voice of grief,
Show'd his grey locks, and thus implor'd relief:
Oh youth, who, yet a stranger to distress,
Feel not (like me) th' extremes of wretchedness!
If, in thy country's cause, thy bosom glows,
That country, late o'erspread by barb'rous foes—
In whose defence, life's richest blood was drain'd
From these poor limbs, while yet a drop remain'd.
Now, worn with toil, and impotent with age,
Soon shall I leave this joyless, mortal stage.
Yet if Humanity, with genial hear,
Expands thy soul to actions good and great,
Some trifling help, (which may you never need!)
Oh give, and heav'n reward the pious deed.
Once, gay in life, and free from anxious care,
I through the furrows drove the shining share—
I saw my waving fields with plenty crown'd,
And yellow Ceres, joyous, smile around;
'Till rous'd by freedom at my country's call,
I left my peaceful home, and gave up all,
[Page 172] Now forc'd, alas! to beg my hard earn'd bread,
This crazy body longs to join the dead:
Ungrateful country! when the danger's o'er,
Your bravest sons cold charity implore.
Children of wealth, in downy pleasure bred,
Pamper'd in ease, by fav'ring fortune fed;
Who view with thoughtless eye the humble poor,
That glean their scanty meals from door to door;
Ah! heave for me a sympathetic sigh,
And wipe the falling tear from Sorrow's eye.
THE WAR-HORSE.
PARAPHRASED FROM JOB.
‘"And hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?"’
AGAIN th' Almighty from the whirlwind broke,
And thus to Job in stern continuance spoke,
Didst thou the horse with strength unequall'd mould,
Whose lofty neck the writhen thunders fold?
And canst thou make the intrepid courser fly,
When steely dangers glitter in his eye?
"See! all around him spreads the flamy cloud,
Spurn'd from his nostrils, while he snorts aloud;
Trembling with vigour, how he paws the ground,
And hurls the thunder of his strength around!
Behold! he pants for war, and, scorning flight,
Collects his strength; and rushes to the fight.
[Page 173]
"When clouds of darts a fable horror spread,
And the full quiver rattles o'er his head—
To him no dread the sound of battle bears,
The clash of armour and the strife of spears;
But o'er his neck his waving mane reclin'd,
Spreads to the gale, and wantons in the wind:
He spurns the field, fierce, terrible, and strong,
And rolls the earth back as he shoots along.
"Lo! where their strife the distant warriors wage,
The neighing courser snuff
[...] the sanguine rage:
While roaring trumpets, and the dire affray,
Provoke his laughter on that dreadful day—
More loud he snorts, more terrible he foams,
When nearer still the storm of battle comes;
And mingling roars are dreadful on the heath,
In shouts of vict'ry, and in groans of death.
ON THE MIGRATION TO AMERICA, AND PEOPLING THE WESTERN COUNTRY.
To western woods and lonely plains,
Palemon from the crowd departs,
Where Nature's wildest genius reigns,
To tame the soil, and plant the arts—
What wonders there shall Freedom show!
What mighty states successive grow!
From Europe's proud, despotic shores,
Hither the stranger takes his way,
And, in our new-found world, explores
A happier soil—a milder sway—
[Page 174] Where no proud despot holds him down,
No slaves insult him with a crown.
What charming scenes attract the eye
On wild Ohio's savage stream!
Here Nature reigns, whose works outvie
The boldest pattern Art can frame—
Here ages past have roll'd away,
And forests bloom'd but to decay.
From these fair plains, these rural seats,
(So long conceal'd, so lately known)
Th' unsocial Indian far retreats,
To make some other clime his own—
Where other streams, less pleasing, flow,
And darker forests round him grow.
Great
[...]ire of floods
*! whose rapid wave
Thro' various countries takes its way,
To which creating Nature gave
Unnumber'd streams to swell thy sway:
No longer shall they useless prove,
Nor idly thro' the forest rove.
No longer shall thy princely flood
From distant lakes be swell'd in vain:
Nor longer, through a darksome wood,
Advance, unnotic'd, to the main;
Far other ends the fates decree,
And Commerce plans new freights for thee.
While Virtue warms the gen'rous breast,
Here heaven-born Freedom shall reside;
Nor shall the voice of War molest,
Nor Europe's all-aspiring pride:
Here Reason shall new laws devise,
And order from confusion rise.
[Page 175]
Forsaking kings and regal state,
With all the
[...] pomp and fancied bliss,
The trav'ller owns—convinc'd—tho' late,
No realm so free, so blest as this;
The east is half to slaves consign'd,
And half to slavery more refin'd.
O come the time, and haste the day,
When man shall man no longer crush!
When Reason shall enforce her sway,
No
[...] those fair regions raise our blush,
Where still the African complains,
And mourns his, yet unbroken, chains.
Far brighter scenes, a future age,
The muse predicts, these states shall hail,
Whose genius shall the world engage,
Whose deeds shall over Death prevail!
And happier systems bring to view,
Than ever eastern sages knew.
A PASTORAL SONG.
THE shepherd, of fortune possest,
May scorn, if he please, my poor cot,
May think in his wealth to be blest,
But I never will envy his lot:
The pleasures, which riches impart,
Are fleeting, and feeble, when known;
They never give peace to the heart,
It scorns to be happy alone.
That shepherd true happiness knows,
Whose bosom by beauty is mov'd,
Who tastes the pure pleasure that flows,
From loving and being belov'd.
[Page 176] 'Tis a joy of angelical birth,
And when to poor mortals 'tis giv'n,
It chears their abode upon earth,
And sweetens their journey to heav'n,
Now briskly my spirits would move!
What peace in this bosom would reign!
Were I blest with the nymph that I love,
Sweet Emma, the pride of the plain!
Ye shepherds, she's fair as the light!
The critic no blemish can find;
And all the soft virtues unite,
And glow in her innocent mind,
Her accents are fitted to please,
Her manners engagingly free;
Her temper is ever at ease,
And calm as an angel's can be.
Her presence all sorrow removes,
She enraptures the wit and the clown:
Her heart is as mild as the dove's,
Her hand is as soft as its down.
Yon lily, which graces the field,
And throws its perfume to the gale,
In fairness and fragrance must yield
To Emma, the pride of the vale.
She's pleasant as yonder cool rill
To trav'llers who faint on the way;
She's sweet, as the rose on the hill,
When it opens its bosom to day.
I ask not for wealth or for pow'r;
Kind heaven! I these can resign;
But hasten, O hasten the hour,
When Emma shall deign to be mine.
O teach her to pity the pain
Of a heart, that, if slighted, must break;
O teach her to love the fond swain,
Who would lay down his life for her sake.
[Page 177]
Though poor, I will never repine,
Content that my Emma is true;
I'll press her dear bosom to mine,
And think myself rich as Peru.
With her I will stray thro' the grove,
And fondly I'll pour out my soul,
Indulge my effusions of love,
And find myself blest to the full.
And oft in the cool of the day,
We'll ramble to hear the sweet song,
That vibrates so soft from each spray,
Where Codorus rolls gently along.
With flowers I'll crown her dear hair.
Then gaze on her beauties; and cry,
What nymph can with Emma compare,
What shepherd so happy as I!
Thus cheerful the moments shall roll,
Of all my fond wishes possest;
And peace shall descend on my soul,
And make it her favourite rest:
Contentment my life shall prolong,
All trouble and sorrow forgot;
And Time, as he hurries along,
Shall smile upon Corydon's cot.
ADDRESS TO THE ROBIN RED-BREAST.
SEE, perch'd on yonder lofty spray,
The red-breast sits, so blithe and gay;
Far from danger, void of fear,
Warbling to the list'ning ear,
Notes of pleasure, airy, wild,
Softly plaintive—sweetly mild;
[Page 178] Whisp'ring to the shady grove
Tender strains of artless love.
Of real or of fancy'd ills,
That human life incessant seels,
Our visionary hopes or fears,
It nothing knows, and nothing cares.
Often when the streaks of morn,
First the groves and hills adorn.
When, bursting on the verdant mead,
They bid the shades of night recede;
Or on the lawn clear splendours break,
And all the feather'd choir awake;
Then little red-breast takes her seat,
Near my lone—my cool retreat.
There, in nature's melting lays,
She tunes her great Creator's praise.
Her music there so sweetly trills,
That rapture all my bosom fills.
Sweet bird! whose softly-soothing strain,
Lulls the smart of fancy'd pain;
Whose tender accents, mild and clear,
Seize the heart, and charm the ear.
And when, remote from Reason's coast,
On mental Mis'ry's waves we're tost,
Or Fancy, overcast by glooms,
In darkness and in error reams—
Thy voice an still the boist'rous sea:
Thy voice can bid the darkness flee.
Sweet bird! who, with the dawning day,
Dost to thy Maker homage pay—
And when the shades of eye appear,
Off'rest up thy humble pray'r,
Bidding zephyr, as he floats,
Bear to heav'n thy grateful notes.
Oh! would man (who lives like thee,
On mercy, infinite, as free)
Like thee, in nature's language raise
His morning and his ev'ning praise;
[Page 179] Render to the
"Source of bliss,"
That tribute, which by right is his;
His soul would then such feelings know,
As but from heav'nly fountains flow.
And by thy fair example taught,
Could I oft clothe the grateful thought,
In tenderly expressive lays,
And thus exalt my Maker's praise.
Pure affections, soft and kind,
Would spring to gild and bless my mind,
Songster of the lonely vale!
Often, when thy plaintive tale,
Trilling from some thicket near,
Vibrates on my raptur'd ear,
Thy strains, so sweet, yet sadly flow—
That all my heart's dissolv'd in woe.
Oft I conceive, in this retreat,
Thou
[...]itt'st to mourn thine absent mate;
Or near yo
[...] gently murm'ring flood,
Deplor'st thy lost—thy hapless brood.
Perhaps, while here thou sweetly sung,
Some serpent stole thy new-fledg'd young;
Or boys, perhaps, in cruel play,
Have borne thy tender care away.
If such has been thy case, sweet bird,
For this if flow'd the strains I heard,
Tho' great the cause, and just the woe,
Sure I can sympathize with you.
I had a friend—nay still he is.
Whose pleasure is my highest bliss—
Whose heart is kind, whose soul sincere,
Whose welfare, as my life, is dear—
Whose breast has felt the shafts of pain,
Struck deep into the tend'rest vein—
Whose soul has known sharp pangs of grief,
Beyond expression and relief.
Like thee, sweet warbler! he'd a mate,
Kind in her heart; in temper, sweet;
[Page 180] In manners, mild; appearance, fair;
Her bosom, gentle; judgment, clear;
Devote to friends; to strangers, kind;
Benign her looks, and meek her mind.
Her heart she
would not
think her own;
Her best affections all had flown;
They rested on her little brood:
I was her son—and oh, I lov'd.
For num'rous years quite uncontroll'd
Joy's crystal current smoothly roll'd;
No strife nor care our lives annoy'd;
No broils, domestic peace destroy'd.
The purest bliss each hour beguil'd,
Heav'n, nature, and the world, all smil'd.
But, ah! how dark a change was near!
No more did pleasing scenes appear;
Clouds of distress, collecting fast,
Joy's whole horizon soon o'ercast.
We fear'd—we hop'd—but all in vain;
O'er hopes were dash'd:—bliss turn'd to pain.
Two brothers first, of tender years,
Whose brows were yet unmark'd with cares—
Whose souls were gen'rous, as their birth—
Whose virtues were just op'ning forth,
At once were summon'd—
Friendship sigh'd,
Affection wept—but oh!—they dy'd.
Tho' hard this stroke—tho' great our woe,
We felt too soon a heavier blow.
That tender parent—loving wife,
The glory of domestic life—
The boast of friends—her husband's pride,
The poor man's trust, her children's guide—
Whose smiles could sinking hope enliv'n,
Who show'd and led the way to heav'n,
[Page 181] Pom'd pious precepts on our ear,
And with her precepts, join'd her pray'r—
That best of mothers—best of wives,
Oh! can I say—no more survives—
Burst, Sorrow! burst, and soothe the smart,
That tortures and consumes my heart.
Shall ev'ry softer charm we praise,
Each
christian and
domestic grace,
Forsake us, never to return,
And shall not
filial fondness mourn?
Tho' more than twice two years have flown,
Since to the vale of death she's gone,
Yet oft, by love and duty taught,
On her
[...] fix the tender thought;
For her escapes the sigh sincere;
For her I drop the pious tear.
Dear angel (for in heav'n you dwell,
And taste delight, no tongue can tell,)
Shall not thy secret influence still
Sway my heart, and rule my will?
Arrest me, if inclin'd to stray;
And keep my feet in Virtue's way?
Sweet parent! yes' my willing feet
Shall tread the path, which thou hast set.
Thy
precept and
example, join'd,
Shall be the pole star of my mind,
Till this fond heart shall cease to beat,
Till tho
[...] and I in heav'n shall meet.
PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.
AS from the east, yon orb first dar
[...]s
[...] sway;
O'er heav'ns blue vault, and westward
[...]
[Page 182] So Science in the orient climes began,
And, like bright Sol, a western circuit ran:
From Egypt's schools to Greece was learning brought,
What Cadmus old, or Palamedes taught;
Her form illustrious Athens did illume,
And rais'd the genius of imperial Rome.
From Latium's plains she fought Britannia's shore,
And bid her barb'rous sons be rude no more.
Fierce nations roam'd around the rugged isle,
Till Science on its fields began to smile.
Fair Cam and Isis heard no Muse's strains,
Their shades were trod by wolves and fiercer Danes;
'Till, with the Arts, Augusta's grandeur rose,
And her loud thunder shook the deep's repose:
And such in time (if right the Muse descries)
Shall this wide realm with tow'ry cities rise.
The spacious Delaware through future song,
Shall roll in deathless majesty along;
Each grove and mountain shall be sacred made,
As now is Cooper's Hill and Windsor's shade.
Flush'd with the thought, I'm borne to ages hence,
The Muse-wrought vision rushes on my sense,
Methinks Messiah's ensign I behold
In the deep gloom of yonder shades inroll'd,
And hear the gospel's silver clarion sound,
Rousing with heav'nly strains the heathen round:
Methinks I hear the nations shout aloud,
And to the glory-beaming standard croud;
New inspiration shake each trembling frame,
The Paracelete pour forth the lambent flame,
In unremitting streams on ev'ry soul,
While thro' their breasts celestial transports roll.
Stupendous change! methinks th' effects appear.
In the dark region sacred temples rear
Their lofty heads. Fair cities strike my sight;
And heav'n-taught Science spreads a dazzling light,
O'er the rough scene where Error's court was found,
And red-ey'd Slaughter crimson'd all the ground.
[Page 183]
ON A LADY'S BIRTH DAY.
SHEPHERDS, shepherds, hither come!
What, tho' lost the vernal bloom,
What, tho' Winter rules the year,
Yet the joys of Spring are here:
Here we taste the sweets of May,
On Eliza's natal day.
Do we want the blushing rose?
In Eliza's cheek it grows:
See the cherry's tempting red
O'er her dewy lips is spread;
And the lily's ev'ry grace
Is exceeded in her face,
Where's the fragrance of the vale?
Where the music of the dale?
Balmy is her breath as spring,
Or the odour zephyrs bring:
Soft as is a seraph's song,
Is the music of her tongue.
Shepherds, then, the chorus join:
Haste the festive wreath to twine:
Come, with bosoms all sincere,
Come with breasts devoid of care;
Bring the pipe, and merry lay,
'Tis Eliza's natal day.
DESCRIPTION OF JEHOVAH, FROM THE XVIIITH PSALM.
HE spoke: and lo! the heav'ns were bow'd;
High on
[...]erubic wings he rode, Majestic to behold.
[Page 184] Profoundest night, the dark abyss,
And the thick gloom of all the skies,
Beneath his feet were roll'd.
Tempestuous winds about him past,
Sublime upon each winged blast,
The great Jehovah came,
He flew abroad, all cloth'd in fire,
But bade thick clouds of smoke aspire,
To wrap the awful flame.
Infolding skies his brightness veil'd:
And, in the depth of night, conceal'd,
His dread pavilion stood,
The blacken'd clouds around him sweep,
And the dark waters of the deep
Enthrone their sovereign God.
'Midst pealing thunders, fire, and smoke,
Jehovah awful silence broke,
And shook the pow'rs beneath:
The rapid lightnings of the sky,
In awful dread of the MOST HIGH,
Were scatter'd by his breath.
NATURE AND ART.
'TIS said that once upon a time,
(So tales begin, and so my rhyme)
Nature held high dispute with Art,
Which had most pow'r upon the heart.
They each agreed, to end debate,
A lovely maiden to create,
Endow'd with their respective charms,
To fill the soul with love's alarms.
[Page 185] Obedient to each high command,
Two female forms before them stand.
Art flew for lightning to the skies,
And plac
[...]d it in her daughter's eyes:
But Nature, tender and sincere,
Taught her's to shed soft Pity's tear.
While Art, from her abundant store,
Her fav'rite's cheeks vermillion'd o'er—
Another method Nature chose,
In her's she plac'd the blushing rose.
Art wander'd through Arabia's plain,
Each richest, costliest gum to gain.
She rifled ev'ry region o'er,
And left Ambara's valley poor:
Then with her gather'd sweets she h
[...]e
[...],
To grace the object of her pride.
Such gales as kiss the daisied meads,
When Spring the jocund Hours leads,
When ev'ry object, grown more gay,
Joins to had returning May,
Through even rows of pearly teeth,
Nature caught her child to breathe.
A neck, that caught the gazer's sight,
As alabaster, cold and white,
Where symmetry's extremest point
Was tortur'd into ev'ry joint—
Rising from a snowy breast,
The Sculptor's curious art confest—
Such Art bestow'd upon her child,
Wa
[...]e indignant Nature smil'd.
A spotless skin of fairest hue,
With vei
[...]s of sky, eye—tinctur'd blue—
A bosom which conceal'd a heart
That bo
[...]e in ev'ry pang a part,
And th
[...]obb'd responsive to each groan,
Soft Nature bade her child to own.
Next Art to Persia's regions slew,
From thence the richest silks she drew.
[Page 186] Transparent emeralds she sought,
The Ceylon-ruby, too, she brought;
Golconda's richest mine explor'd,
To add the diamond to her hoard;
And on her idol she bestow'd
The curions, costly, cumbrous load;
While Youth, Simplicity, and Ease,
Gave Nature's daughter power to please.
Thus deck'd, each mother gave her charge,
Before she set her child at large.
Now go,—said Art—and let your eyes
Fill each beholder with surprise:
Go—be but seen—without control,
You'll lord it o'er the human soul;
Before your feet you'll daily see
Unnumber'd captives bend the knee:
But let them drag a hopeless chain,
And sigh, and swear, and rave in vain.
In humbler accents, NATURE said:
Be not of yonder form afraid:
Perhaps she'll wound the fopling's heart,
Be your's, my dear, a nobler part:
The trifling conquests of her eyes,
Are such as all your sex despise.
But if some tender youth you find,
In whom good sense to virtue's join'd,
Within whose open gen'rous breast,
Dissimulation cannot rest,
Of him a worthy conquest make,
He'll love my child for Nature's sake.
In him no short-lived flame you'll fear;
Where virtue dwells, the soul's sincere;
Go then, my life, my joy, my pride,
Go—be the counterpart of F—d.
[Page 187]
COLOLOO.—AN INDIAN TALE.
THROWN INTO ENGLISH VERSE.
COLWALL! the women crie;
Colwall! the dales resound,
Colwall, the hills reply,
And hollow caves rebound.
Wild shrieks thro' thickets ring,
Fast flies the dark brown night:
"Come, ye warriors bring
The captive ta'en in sight;
Draw tight the cutting bands!
Bring matches blazing blue!
Now! now! the victim stands
To mighty Colwall due."
With scorn the captive smil'd,
With scorn he ey'd the throng,
Then thus his pain beguil'd,
With high exulting song.
SONG.
And are these all the means ye know
I'o give a warrior pain?
Oh give your sires a fiercer glow;
Remember Colwall slain.
My father gloried in his son.
My warriors came from fight,
None staid behind; the scalps we won
Declar'd our matchless might.
Who has not heard Cololoo's fame?
My nation well ye know,—
And dreadful is the Tiger's name,
And fear'd by every foe.
[Page 188]
Pain does not lie so near the skin,
More burning pine knots bring!
Cololoo's all at peace within—
And Logan's fame he'll sing.
RECITAL.
Then whilst from every limb the red streams gush,
And round him glows the fire;
Whilst thorns and nails transfix the quivering flesh,
The death song rises higher.—
SONG.
Aged Logan led the fight,
Logan's fame is ever new,—
Logan seiz'd a treacherous White,
His murder'd children rush to view:
"Curses blast thee! pale-faced Savage,
Ruin seize thy ruthless kind,
Train'd to rapine, skill'd to ravage,
Gain, the God that grasps thy mind.
Now ye red men take your fill,
Give the scalping knife its due,
The red right arm is bare to kill,—
This my children, this to you."
Reeking from the white man's brain,
Lo! he lifts the scalp on high;
"Logan does not wish thee pain,
Fly to death's dark caverns, fly!
See they come! they come to meet us!
Raise the yell that makes them quake,
Say,—shall puny white men beat us?
Men that every blast can shake?
Men that fear the rushing rain,
Men that fear the clouded sky,
Men that shrink and howl at pain,
Nor know to triumph when they die.
[Page 189]
Now ye Tiger tribe be brave,
Think that Logan sees the fight;
Scalps on scalps adorn my cave,
Glad'ning to my children's sight.
Sulph'rous smokes obscure the view,
War! the hills and dales reply.
Now ye red men, now be true!
Ye know to fight! ye dare to die!"
Hand to hand the warriors rush,
Shouts and yells in echoes die;
Tom'hawks cleave, and bay'nets push,—
They fly! they fly! the white men fly!
One brave band alone remains,
One alone of all that band,
Every shot and blow sustains,
Red like ours his heavy hand.
See they sink—he's left alone,—
Still our warriors stain the fields;
See! he falls, but fighting on
Sits, and still his sword he wields.
Logan seiz'd the brave man's arm,
Longing, look'd upon his face;
Logan will not do thee harm,
Tho' thou art of faithless race;
Logan's sons had been like thee,—
White men shot them from the bush;
The brave shall not be harm'd by me,—
He's dead,—he's flown,—and all is hush.—
None thy beauteous corse shall wound;
None thy hairy scalp shall tear;
Thou shalt sleep with warriors round,
Thou the dead-men's feast shall share.
Seize the scalps, and count the slain;
White-men, weep your brothers' woes!
Ease our dying chiefs from pain:—
White men learn to fear your foes!
[Page 190]
So, Logan triumph'd o'er the foe;
Logan's fame was fairly won:
So, Logan laid the white-men low,—
—But set is Logan's sun,—
Why bring ye not the heated stone,
To sear and seam my manly breast?
Why sure the torture is not done!
Such pain Cololoo bears in jest.
RECITAL.
Round his head Idiego hurl'd
His hatchet keen and good;
Whizzing, fierce the weapon whirl'd,
And quiver'd in the wood.
Reldor then with sullen stride,
His knife was in his hand,
Advanc'd, and thus aloud he cried,—
And cut the twisted band.
Reldor takes thee for his son,
Colwall in battle stain:
In many a fight his fame he won,
Nor shrunk from death or pain.—
Silent now the warrior train
Bear the blood-stain'd chief,—
No more they weep for Colwall slain,—
No more is known of grief.—
AN ELEGY, WRITTEN IN FEBRUARY 1791.
DARK is the hour and lone, o'er icy plains,
The wandering meteors gleam a deadly light:
Wild howls the blast amid descending rams,
And forms funereal
[...] along the night.
[Page 191]
Retir'd from scenes where Pleasure's airy wand
Gilds the light moments with delusive joy,
Where Mirth exulting leads her festive band,
Far other scenes my pensive soul employ.
The clouds of death that gloom the baleful year,
The days of joy, alas, so lately fled!
While Friendship bids its sympathetic tear
Stream in remembrance of the much-lov'd dead.
My friend, but now, of every bliss possest
That love connubial can on man bestow,
When
[...] wishes warm the mutual
[...]
Behold the prey of life
[...] woe.
Of late, how fair the beauteous prospect show
[...],
How lovely glittering in the morning's eye;
But long ere noon, like April's painted cloud,
Or hues that tinge the summer's evening sky.
The fairy hopes that raptur'd Fancy drew,
The dream of future bliss that shone so bright,
On Fate's swift pinions vanish'd from the view,
And sunk in shadows of eternal night.—
What notes of woe, in mournful cadence swell
Along the western breeze from climes afar,
Mix'd with the dying groan, the savage yell,
And all the horrid dissonance of war!
And lo! 'mid gliding spectres dimly seen,
Pale as the mists that Autumn's car surround,
A form superior lifts his pensive mien,
While on his bosom glares the shadowy wound.
Behold,he cries,the band who lately bled,
'M
[...]d western wilds in glorious conflict slain;
While recreant troops in pale confusion fled,
Ignobly left unburied on the plain.—
Far opes the view, sublime in savage pride
A wild unbounded frowns on Fancy's eye;
Tall rise the trees and o'er savannahs wide
The rank grass trembles to the breeze on high.
[Page 192]
With torrent sweep, amid a night of woods,
Where scarce the sun a livid glimmering lends,
A blood-stain'd river rolls his foaming floods,
And o'er the plains in wild meanders bends.
Lo! this the scene where War, with bloody hand,
Wav'd his red standard o'er the carnag'd ground;
Where wild-eyed Horror led the tawny band,
And fell the brave with dear-bought laurels crown'd.
Here, grim with gore, beneath the inclement sky,
[...] by the parching ray and driving
[...],
The mangled forms of breathless warriors lie,
[...] pale extended on the lonely plain.
In slaughter'd heaps, around promiscuous cast,
' Mid savage chiefs Columbia's sons are spread,
While, breath'd from polar snows, the northern blast.
Shakes its cold pinions o'er the unburied dead.
For them no more shall morning gild the sky,
No more shall May unveil her radiant charms,
No more shall Joy illume the sparkling eye,
Or Glory's voice excite the soul to arms.
Near yon grey rock by withering leaves conceal'd,
Amyntor lies, benevolent and brave;
Whose duteous hand a father's age upheld,
And smooth'd his dreary passage to the grave.
Not far, a corse distinguish'd o'er the rest,
Of noble stature and heroic mien;
Deep opes the wound that gor'd his manly breast,
And his pale features wear a smile serene.
Too well, alas! that much-lov'd form I know,
Those features pale with gory dust o'er spread,
O'er whom has Friendship mourn'd in bitterest woe,
For whom Affection's tenderest tears are shed.
Still, still in Fancy's view recurs the day,
When war's black demons pour'd their hideous yell,
Then left expos'd to savage
[...]age a prey,
Thy gallant hand beside their leader sell.
[Page 193]
Opprest with toil, while countless foes surround,
Thy arm, thy voice, the fainting troop inspir'd;
And e'en when sinking with the deadly wound,
Thy latest breath their martial ardour fir'd.
Lamented Hero, far from weeping friends!
No funeral honours to thy corse were paid,
And no memorial, o'er thy grave extends,
To mark the lonely spot where low thou'rt laid.
Yet what avails to please the senseless clay,
"The trophied tomb,"the monumental bust,
Or recks the spirit mid the realms of day,
The empty rites attendant on its dust.
A fairer wreath shall friendship's hand bestow,
A fairer tribute shall thy shade receive,
Than all the idle pageantry of woe,
Than all its pompous monuments can give.
Long, long shall Memory's ardent eye recal
Thy worth, thy milder virtues to her view;
Thy Country long lament her hero's fall,
And o'er thee Fame her brightest laurels strew.
O'er the lone spot where rests thy mouldering form,
Shall opening spring her mildest breezes wave;
And Flora's hand with every fragrant charm,
Deck the soft turf that forms thy verdant grave.
There the Wild-Rose in earliest pride shall bloom,
There the Magnolia's gorgeous flowers unfold,
The purple Violet shed its sweet perfume,
And beauteous Meadia wave her plumes of gold.
Rest much-lov'd Chief, with thy Jer—
[...] blest,
Amid yon realms of light, yon seats of joy,
Where hush'd is sorrow in perpetual rest,
And pleasure smiles unconscious of alloy.
From that calm shore with pitying eye survey
The varying schemes of man, the busy strife,
The vain pursuits that fill his"little day,"
And toss with ceaseless storms the sea of life.
[Page 194]
While seraphs, bending from their thrones of gold,
With songs of triumph hymn thy soul to peace;
And to thy raptur'd eye, with smiles, unfold
The happy mansions of eternal bliss.
THE DEITY, AND HIS DISPENSATIONS.
FAR, very far beyond this lower sky,
Beyond the sun, beyond the flames on high,
Dwells in pure light, in heav'n's serene abode,
The Source of life, the Spring of endless good;
All scenes, all heights above, sublimely reigns
All worlds created, and all worlds sustains.
Yon orb, whose brightness wakes thy raptur'd praise,
Is but a beam of his unbounded blaze;
His breath illum'd, his hand exalted high,
And roll'd him flaming thro' the expanded sky.
His bounteous influence, thro' all nature driv'n,
Warms the wide earth, and cheers the wider heav'n.
All scenes, all beings his pure sight surveys,
Where morn begins, and where pale eve decays;
Where hell's dark shores the glooms of night display:
Or heav'n's broad palace glows in lasting day:
Thro' worlds of endless youth, where angels shine,
And unknown nations rove in light divine:
He moves, informs, directs, and rules the whole:
Their cause, their end, their guardian, and their soul.
He wakes the beauties of the vernal morn;
He bids the flames of sultry summer burn:
He show'rs th' autumnal wealth; and his dread pow'r
Sounds in the wintry storm, and bids the wild waves roar.
[Page 195]
In these vast regions countless beings move,
Live in his smiles, and wanton in his love:
In all, his power, and boundless wisdom shine,
The works, the glories of a hand divine.
Thron'd in high heaven, in starry mansions reign,
Of purest intellect, th' angelic train;
All sense, all soul, all love, eternal power
Their thoughts contemplate, and their songs adore.
Thro' earth's wide realms unnumber'd tribes we find,
Of diff'rent ranks, for diff'rent ends design'd.
On every leaf the insect millions swarm,
Hum round the flow'r, or in the sun—beam warm;
The birds, on painted pinions, gaily fly
Thro' the wide regions of the sapphire sky;
Beasts climb the cliff, or walk the savage wood;
And fishes sport around the foamy flood.
These, with the reptile
[...]ace, to time a prey,
Of dust were fashion'd, and to dust decay.
To man, of nobler rank, two parts were giv'n,
This form'd of earth, and that inspir'd by heav'n.
Such as the texture, such th' allowed doom;
His body moulders in the narrow tomb:
But the wing'd soul, when earth in dust is hurl'd,
Shall spring, immortal, from the
[...]inking world;
Or dain'd, if crimes its earthly course distain,
To bathe in fire, and waste with endless pain;
If cleans'd from guilt, with active joy to rise
To the pure transports of angelic skies.
But man, unmindful of his nobler birth,
In vain seeks pleasure from surrounding earth.
Far different, far, the scenes by heaven design'd
To fill the wishes of the active mind.
This bounded point is but our being's morn;
To endless life
[...]' ethe
[...]al soul was born,
Upward with nimble
[...] her thoughts should soar,
And, wing'd by virtue, brighter worlds explore;
[Page 196] Earth's groveling joys disdain with conscious pride,
Like angels fashion'd, and to heaven allied.
For this fair train our nature to prepare,
And the pure fragrance of immortal air,
To raise the downward heart from earthly toys,
And mould our wishes to sublimer joys,
Thro' earth's wide realms, afflictions first began,
The noblest blessings heav'n bestows on man,
Toil, disappointment, hunger, thirst, and pain,
A long, long, dismal, melancholy train,
Cleanse the dim eye, dissolve the pow'rful lust,
And loose the chains, that bind our hearts to dust.
From sorrow's fire, like silver well refin'd,
Freed from vile earth, shall rise th' und
[...]ossy mind,
Each hour with beams of clearer beauty shine,
And ceaseless claim an image more divine.
At length when sickness brings th' expected doom,
Its powers shall rise triumphant o'er the tomb,
Forward to nobler scenes with rapture spring,
And hail the message of th' undreaded king;
While life's long stream its farthest shore shall lave,
And seek the bosom of th' eternal wave.
Then shall we see diviner winds arise,
The main grow calm, and smiles invest the skies:
Then shall our happy bands exalt the sail,
Launch on the deep, and call th' etherial gale;
With joy, our spirits leave the fading shore,
And hear the less'ning storms at distance roar.
In wrapp'd in beams of uncreated light,
All heaven, disclos'd, shall burst upon the sight:
Streams of immortal bliss in vision
[...]oll,
And hosts of angels hail the kindred soul.
CREATION.
FROM realms divine, high-rais'd beyond all height,
Th' Almighty Parent cast his piercing sight;
[Page 197] With boundless view, he saw the etherial vast
A clouded gloom, an undelightsome waste:
Around the extended wild, no sun's broad ray
Mark'd the clear splendour of immortal day;
No varying moon, ordain'd at eve to rise,
Led the full pomp of constellated skies;
No day in circling beauty learn'd to roll;
No fair spring smil'd, nor frost congeal'd the pole;
Substantial darkness space unmeasur'd fill'd,
And nature's realms lay desolate and wild.
He spoke: at once, o'er earth's far distant bounds
The heavens wide-arching stretch'd their sapphire rounds.
With hoary cliffs the far-seen hills ascend;
Down sink the vales, and wide the plains extend;
Headlong from steep to steep the billows roar,
Fill the broad main, and toss against the shore.
He spoke; and beauty thro' all nature flow'd;
With springing verdure earth's wide regions glow'd.
Forth rush the flowery tribes; and trees on high
Shroud their
[...]all summits in the ambient sky.
He spoke; the heav'ns with sudden glory shone;
In godlike pomp
[...] forth the golden sun;
Far thro' immensity his kindling my
Shot life and joy, and pour'd the new-born day;
With milder lustre rose the charms of even,
The moon's broad beam, and all the pride of heav'n.
He spoke; and fishes fill'd the watry rounds,
Swarm'
[...] in the streams and swam the Ocean's bounds;
The green sea sparkled with unnumber'd dies,
And varying beauty wav'd upon the skies;
Whales through the foaming billows proudly rode,
And unknown monsters gambol'd o'er the flood.
From the deep wave, adorn'd with nobler grace,
In countless millions sprang the feather'd race.
Thro' the far clouds, the eagle cleft his way,
And soar'd, and wanton'd in the flames of day:
[Page 198] Full on the morn the peacock op'd his beams;
And swans majestic row'd th' expanded streams.
He spoke; and, wondering, from disparted plains,
In throngs unnumber'd, rose the bestial trains:
Their snowy robes the harmless flocks reveal'd:
Gay steeds, exulting, pranc'd the vernal field.
The lion glar'd; and, mid the gazing throng,
Shook his rough main, and grimly stalk'd along.
The wide earth finish'd, from his western throne,
In splendid beauty look'd the gladsome sun;
Calm were the skies; the fields with lustre crown'd,
And nature's incense fill'd th' etherial round.
Enshrin'd in sacred light, the Maker stood,
Complacent smil'd, and own'd the work was good,
Then from his hand, in silent glory, came
A nobler form, and man his destin'd name;
Erect, and tall, in solemn pomp he stood,
And living virtue in his visage glow'd,
Then, too, a fairer being show'd her charms;
Young Beauty wanton'd in her snowy arms;
The heav'ns around her bade their graces fly,
And Love sat blooming in her gentle eye,
O pair divine! superior to your kind;
To virtue fashion'd, and for bliss design'd!
He, born to rule, with calm, uplifted brow,
Look'd down majestic on the world below;
To heav'n, his mansion, turn'd his thoughts sublime,
Or rov'd far onward thro' the scenes of time;
O'er nature's kingdom cast a searching eye,
And dar'd to trace the secrets of the sky;
On fancy's pinions scann'd the white abode,
And claim'd his friend, an angel, or a God.
Her he indu'd with nature more refin'd,
A lovelier image, and a softer mind.
To her he gave to kindle sweet desire,
To rouse great thoughts and fan the heroic fire;
At Pity's gentle call to bend his ear;
To prompt for woe the unaffected tear:
In scenes refin'd his soft'ning soul improve,
And tune his wishes with the hand of love.
[Page 199] To her he gave with sweetness to obey,
Inspire the friend, and charm the lord away;
Each bleeding grief with balmy
[...]and to heal,
And teach his rending sinews not to feel;
Each joy t' improve, the pious wish to raise,
And add new raptures to his languid praise.
To this lov'd pair a bless'd retreat was given,
A seat for angels, and an humbler heaven;
Fair Eden nam'd: in swift succession, there
Glad scenes of rapture led the vernal year;
Round the green garden, living Beauty play'd;
In gay profusion Earth her treasures spread:
The air breath'd fragrance: streams harmonious rung,
And love, and transport, tun'd th' aërial song.
With tranquil beams the seventh bright morn appear'd,
And thus, from fiery clouds, a voice was heard:
This day, O man, to sacred transports rise,
And pass the hours in converse with the skies:
To prayer, to praise, be all thy wishes given;
Soar from the world, and here begin thy heaven!
So shall thy sons pursue the virtuous road,
And, each returning sabbath, wake to God.
The sovereign voice the reverend pair obey'd;
A solemn beauty earth and heaven array'd;
With joy the pinion'd tribes, in ev'ry grove,
Hymn'd the blest influence of immortal love.
Man join'd the concert: and his raptur'd lays
Charm'd the gay fields, when angels ceas'd to praise.
NEW-ENGLAND DESCRIBED.
HAIL, O hail,
My much lov'd native land! New Albion hail!
[Page 200] The happiest realm, that, round his circling course,
The all-searching sun beholds. What though the breath
Of Zembla's winter shuts thy lucid streams,
And hardens into brass thy generous soil;
Though, with one white, and cheerless, robe, thy hills,
Invested, rise a long and joyous waste;
Leafless the grove, and dumb the lonely spray,
And every pasture mute: What though with clear
And fervid blaze, thy summer rolls his car,
And drives the languid herd, and fainting flock,
To seek the shrouding umbrage of the dale;
While man, relax'd and feeble, anxious waits
The dewy eve, to slake his thirsty frame:
What though thy surface, rocky, rough, and rude,
Scoop'd into vales, or heav'd in lofty hills,
Or cloud embosom'd mountains, dares the plough,
And threatens toil intense to every swain:
What though foul Calumny, with voice malign,
Thy generous sons, with every virtue grac'd,
Accus'd of every crime, and still rolls down
The kennell'd stream of impudent abuse:
Yet to high HEAVEN my ardent praises rise,
That in thy lightsome vales he gave me birth,
All-gracious, and allows me still to live.
Cold is thy clime, but every western blast
Brings health, and life, and vigour on its wings;
Innerves the steely frame, and firms the soul
With strength and hardihood; wakes each bold
And manly purpose; bears above the ills,
That stretch, upon the rack, the languid heart
Of summer's maiden sons, in pleasure's lap,
Dandled to dull repose. Exertion strong
Marks their whole life. Mountains before them sink
To mole-hills; oceans bar their course in vain.
Thro' the keen wintry wind they breast their way,
Or summer's fiercest flame. Dread dangers rouse
Their hearts to pleasing conflict; toils and woes,
Quicken their ardour: while, in milder climes,
Their peers effeminate they see, with scorn
[Page 201] On lazy plains, dissolv'd in putrid sloth,
And struggling hard for being. Thy rough soil
Tempts hardy labour, with his sturdy team,
To turn, with sinewy hand, the stony glebe,
And call forth every comfort from the mould,
Unpromising, but kind. Thy houses, barns,
Thy granaries, and thy cellers, hence are stor'd
With all the sweets of life: while, thro' thy realm,
A native beggar rarely pains the sight.
Thy summer glows with heat; but choicest fruits
Hence purple in the sun; hence sparkling flowers
Gem the rich landscape; double harvests hence
Load the full fields: pale Famine scowls aloof,
And Plenty wantons round thy varied year.
Rough is thy surface; but each landscape bright,
With all of beauty, all of grandeur dress'd,
Of mountains, hills, and sweetly winding vales,
Of forests groves, and lawns, and meadows green,
And waters, varied by the plastic hand,
Through all their fairy splendour, ceaseless charms,
Poetic eyes. Spring bubbling round the year,
Gay-wand'ring brooks, wells at the surface full,
Yield life, and health, and joy, to every house,
And every vivid field. Rivers, with foamy course,
Pour o'er the ragged cliff, the white cascade,
And roll unnumber'd mills, or, like the Nile,
Fatten the beauteous interval; or bear
The sails of commerce through the laughing groves.
With wisdom, virtue, and the generous love
Of learning, fraught, and freedom's living flame,
Electric, unextinguishable, fir'd,
Our Sires established, in thy cheerful bounds,
The noblest institutions, man has seen,
Since time his reign began. In little farms
They measur'd all thy realms, to every child
In equal shares descending; no entail
The first-born listing into bloated pomp,
[Page 202] Tainting with lust, and sloth, and pride, and rage,
The world around him: all the race beside.
Like brood of ostrich, left for chance to rear,
And every foot to trample. Reason's sway
Elective, founded on the rock of truth,
Wisdom their guide, and equal good their end,
They built with strength, that mocks the battering storm,
And spurns the mining flood; and every right
Dispens'd alike to all. Beneath their eye,
And forming hand, in every hamlet, rose
The nurturing school, in every village, smil'd
The heav'n inviting church, and every town
A world within itself, with order, peace,
And harmony, adjusted all its weal.
Hence every swain, free, happy, his own lord,
With useful knowledge fraught, of business, laws,
Morals, religion, life, unaw'd by man,
And doing all, but ill, his heart can wish,
Looks round, and finds strange happiness his own:
And sees that happiness on laws depend.
On this heav'n laid foundation rests thy sway;
On knowledge to discern, and sense to feel,
That free-born rule is life's perennial spring
Of real good. On this alone it rests.
For, could thy sons a full conviction feel,
That government was noxious, without arms,
Without intrigues, without a civil broil,
As torrents sweep the sand-built structure down,
A vote would wipe it's very trace away.
Hence too each breast is steel'd for bold defence;
For each has much to lose. Chosen by all,
The messenger of peace, by all belov'd,
Spreads, hence, the truth and virtue, he commands.
Hence manners mild, and sweet, their peaceful sway
Widely extend. Refinement of the heart
Illames the general mass. Even those rude hills,
Those deep embow'ring woods, in other lands
Prowl'd round by savages, the same soft scenes,
[Page 203] Mild manners, order, virtue, peace, disclose;
The howling forest polish'd as the plain.
From earliest years, the same enlightened soul
Founded bright schools of science. Here the mind
Learn'd to expand it's wing, and stretch it's flight
Through truth's broad fields. Divines, and lawyers, hence,
Physicians, statesmen, all with wisdom fraught,
And learning, lusted to the use of life,
And minds, by business, sharpen'd into sense,
Sagacious of the duty, and the weal,
Of man, spring numberless; and knowledge hence
Pours it's salubrious streams, through all the spheres
Of human life. Its bounds, and generous scope,
Hence Education opens, spreading far,
Through the bold yeomanry, that
[...] thy climes,
Views more expanded, generous, just, refin'd,
Than other nations know. In other lands,
The mass of man, scarce rais'd above the brutes,
Drags dull the horsemill round of sluggish life:
Nought known, beyond their daily toil; all else
By ignorance' dark curtain hid from sight.
Here, glorious contrast! every mind, inspir'd
With active inquisition, restless wings
Its flight to every flower, and, settling, drinks
Largely the sweets of knowledge.
Is this a state of life, thy honest tongue Candour, say,
Could blacken? These a race of men, thy page
Could hand to infamy? The shameful task
Thy foes at first began, and still thy foes,
Laborious, weave the web of lies. 'Tis hence,
The generous traveller round him looks, amaz'd,
And wonders at our unexpected bliss.
[Page 204]
PICTURE OF A NEW-ENGLAND VILLAGE.
FAIR Verna! loveliest village of the west;
Of every joy, and every charm, possess'd;
How pleas'd amid thy varied walks I rove,
Sweet, cheerful walks of innocence, and love,
And o'er thy smiling prospects cast my eyes,
And see the seats of peace, and pleasure, rise,
And hear the voice of Industry resound,
And mark the smile of Competence, around▪
Hail, happy village! O'er thy cheerful lawns,
With earliest beauty, spring delighted dawns;
The northward sun begins his vernal smile;
The spring birds carols o'er the cressy rill:
The shower, that patters in the ruffled stream,
The ploughboy's voice, that chides the lingering team,
The bee, industrious, with his busy song,
The woodman's axe, the distant groves among,
The waggon, rattling down the rugged sleep,
The light wind, lulling every care to sleep,
All these, with mingled music, from below,
Deceive intruding sorrow, as I go.
Sweet-smiling village! loveliest of the hills!
How green thy groves! How pure thy glassy rills!
With what new joy, I walk thy verdant streets!
How often pause, to breathe thy gale of sweets;
To mark thy well built walls! thy budding fields!
And every charm, that rural nature yields;
And every joy, to Competence allied,
And every good, that Virtue gains from Pride!
No griping landlord here alarms the door,
To halve, for rent, the poor man's little store.
To haughty owner drives the humble swain
To some far refuge from his dread domain;
[Page 205] Nor wastes, upon his robe of useless pride,
The wealth, which shivering thousands wants beside;
Nor in one palace sinks a hundred cots;
Nor in one manor drowns a thousand lots;
Nor, on one table, spread for death and pain▪
Devours what would a village well sustain.
THE HOUSE OF SLOTH.
BESIDE yon lonely tree, whose branches bare
Rise white, and murmur to the passing air,
There, where the twining briars the yard enclose,
The house of Sloth stands hush'd in long repose.
In a late round of solitary care,
My feet instinct to rove, they knew not where,
I thither come. With yellow blossoms gay,
The tall rank weed begirt the tangled way:
Curious to view, I forc'd a path between,
And climb'd the broken stale, and gaz'd the scene.
O'er an old well, the curb half fallen spread,
Whose boards, end-loose, a mournful creaking made;
Poiz'd on a leaning post, and ill-sustain'd,
In ruin
[...], a mouldering swepe remain'd;
Useless, the crooked pole still dangling hung,
And, tied with thrumbs, a broken bucket swung.
A half-made wall around the garden lay,
Mended, in gaps, with brushwood in decay.
No culture through the woven briars was seen,
Save a few sickly plants of faded green:
The starv'd potatoe hung it's blasted seeds,
And fennel struggled to o'ertop the weeds.
[Page 206] There gaz'd a ragged sheep, with wild surprise,
And two lean geese upturn'd their slanting eyes.
The cottage gap'd, with many a dismal yawn,
Where, rent to burn, the covering boards were gone;
Or, by one nail, where others endwise hung,
The sky look'd thro', and winds portentous rung.
In waves, the yielding roof appear'd to run,
And half the chimney-top was fallen down.
The ancient cellar door, of structure rude,
With tatter'd garments calk'd, half open stood.
There, as I peep'd, I saw the ruin'd bin;
The sills were broke; the wall had crumbled in;
A few, long emptied casks lay mouldering round,
And wasted ashes sprinkled o'er the ground;
While, a sad sharer in the houshould ill,
A half-starv'd rat crawl'd out, and bade farewel.
One window dim, a loop-hole to the sight,
Shed round the room a pale, penurious light;
Here rags gay-colour'd eked the broken glass;
There panes of wood supplied the vacant space.
As, pondering deep, I gaz'd, with gritty roar,
The hinges creak'd, and open stood the door.
Two little boys, half-naked from the waist,
With staring wonder, ey'd me, as I pass'd.
The smile of Pity blended with her tear—
Ah me! how rarely Comfort visits here!
On a lean hammoc, once with feathers fill'd,
His limbs by dirty tatters ill conceal'd,
Tho' now the sun had rounded half the day,
Stretch'd at full length, the lounger snorting lay:
While his sad wife, beside her dresser stood,
And wash'd her hungry houshold's meagre food,
His aged sire, whose beard, and flowing hair,
Wav'd silvery, o'er his antiquated chair,
[Page 207] Rose from his seat; and, as he watch'd my eye,
Deep from his bosom heav'd a mournful sigh—
Stranger, he cried, once better days I knew;
And, trembling, shed the venerable dew.
I wish'd a kind reply; but wish'd in vain;
No words came timely to relieve my pain:
To the poor parent, and her infants dear,
Two mites I gave, besprinkled with a tear;
And, fix'd again to see the wretched shed,
Withdrew in silence, clos'd the door, and fled.
Yet this so lazy man I've often seen
Hurrying, and bustling, round the busy green;
The loudest prater, in a blacksmith's shop;
The wisest statesman, o'er a drunken cup;
(His sharp-bon'd horse, the street that nightly fed,
Tied, many an hour, in yonder, tavern-shed)
In every gambling, racing match, abroad:
But a rare hearer, in the house of God.
A FEMALE WORTHY.
BEYOND that hillock, topp'd with scatter'd trees,
That meet, with freshest green, the hastening breeze,
There, where the glassy brook reflects the day,
Nor weeds, nor sedges, choke its crystal way,
Where budding willows feel the earliest spring,
And wonted red breasts safely nest, and sing,
A female Worthy lives; and all the poor
Can point the way to her sequester'd door.
She, unseduc'd by dress and idle shew,
The forms, and rules, of fashion never knew;
[Page 208] Nor glittering in the ball, her form display'd;
Nor yet can tell a diamond, from a spade.
Far other objects claim'd her steady care;
The morning chapter, and the nightly prayer;
The frequent visit to the poor man's shed;
The wakeful nursing, at the sick man's bed;
Each day, to rise, before the early sun;
Each day, to see her daily duty done;
To cheer the partner of her houshold cares,
And mould her children, from their earliest years.
Small is her house; but fill'd with stores of good;
Good, earn'd with toil, and with delight bestow'd.
In the clean cellar, rang'd in order neat,
Gay—smiling Plenty boasts her casks of meat,
Points, to small eyes, the bins where apples glow,
And marks her cider-butts, in stately row.
Her granary, fill'd with harvest's various pride,
Still sees the poor man's bushel laid aside;
Here swells the flaxen, there the fleecy store,
And the long wood pile mocks the winter's power:
White are the swine; the poultry plump and large;
For every creature thrives, beneath her charge.
Plenteous, and plain, the furniture is seen;
All form'd for use, and all as silver clean.
On the clear dresser, pewter s
[...]incs arow;
The clean scower'd bowls are trimly set below;
While the wash'd coverlet, and linen white,
Assure the traveller a refreshing night.
Oft have I seen, and oft still hope to see,
This friend, this parent to the poor and me,
Tho' bent with years, and toil, and care, and woe,
Age lightly silver'd on her furrow'd brow,
Her f
[...]ame still useful, and her mind still young,
Her judgment vigorous, and her memory strong,
[Page 209] Serene her spirits, and her temper sweet,
And pleas'd the youthful circle still to meet,
Cheerful, the long-accustom'd task pursue,
Prevent the rust of age, and life renew;
To church, still pleas'd, and able still, to come,
And shame the lounging youth, who sleep at home.
Such as her toils, has been the bright reward;
For Heaven will always toils like these regard.
Safe, on her love, her truth and wisdom tried,
Her husband's heart, thro' lengthened life, relied;
From little, daily saw his wealth increase,
His neighbours love him, and his houshold bless;
In peace and plenty liv'd, and died resign'd,
And, dying, left six thousand pounds behind.
Her children, train'd to usefulness alone,
Still love the hand, which led them kindly on,
With pious duty, own her wise behest,
And, every day, rise up, and call her bless'd.
More would ye know, of each poor hind enquire,
Who sees no sun go down upon his hire;
A cheerful witness, did each neighbour come;
Ask each sad wanderer, where he finds a home;
His tribute even the vilest wretch will give,
And praise the useful life, he will not live.
THE MISERIES OF WAR.
THRO' earth's immeasurable bounds,
Thro' time's interminable rounds,
Each day has heard the clarion roar▪
Each land been bath'd in human gore.
[Page 210] The Egyptian ru
[...]e, the Assyrian throne,
Was rear'd of spoils, and realms undo
[...]e.
Greece redden'd earth around with blood,
And pour'd of▪ woe an ocean flood;
Then pointed at herself the dart,
And brothers pierc'd a brother's heart.
The Persian ruin'd half mankind:
The Macedonian wept to find,
While brooding o'er the wrecks of joy,
No new would left him, to destroy.
The structure mark of Rome's dread power!
Its marble bones! its cement gore;
Her sway the waste of human joy;
The arts to plunder, and destroy:
A curse to earth's extended climes:
A web of madness, woes, and crimes!
Her towers were built by galled hands;
In blood her proud Pantheon stands;
Her triumphs show'd the tyger's prey;
And corpses pav'd her Appian way.
In each tall temple's dread abode,
Pale spectres hover'd round the god,
(The injur'd ghosts of countless lands,
Cut off from life by Roman hands)
Hung round, and claim'd the spoils their own,
Shriek'd o'er their native realms undone,
Hauntell each shrine, with livid state,
And mingled groans with every prayer.
Nor le
[...], in modern days, when art
Has led so nobler scenes the heart,
When science beams with vernal rays,
And lights to b
[...]ss ten thousand ways,
The Gospel, found in every tongue,
Has peace and sweet salvation sung,
The tyger charm'd to quit his prey,
And taught the wolf with lambs to play—
Still roars the trump's funereal sound;
"To arms,"the startled hills rebound;
[Page 211] War's iron car in thunder rolls,
From medial climes, to distant poles.
Amaz'd, see Europe, first of all,
Proud Empress of this suffering b
[...]ll,
The sun of power, and arts refin'd,
The boast, and beauty, of mankind,
The work of death, and plunder, spread,
And riot on th' untimely dead!
When, borne by winds of softest wing,
Returns the life renewing spring,
The tempest
[...]ies to earth's far ends,
And HEAVEN in peace and love descends,
Shines in the sun's serener ray,
Breaches in the bul
[...]ry breath of May,
Du
[...]s in earth dissolving showers,
And glows in rainbow-painted flowers,
While wisdom works, while goodness warms,
In sky-born tints, and angel forms,
The new, the sweet, creation springs,
And beauty blooms, and rapture sings:
Fait swell the teeming seeds of food;
The world is heap'd with boundless good;
In every scene, the GODHERD smiles,
And man of rage, and lust, beguiles.
Then beats the drum its fierce alarm;
Then millions, fir'd to madness, arm,
Fight, plunder desolate, devour,
And drench the wasted world in gore.
Whose name rolls down, from age to age?
Whose splendours light th' Historic page?
Who wakes th' inrapt Maeonian song?
Who prompts the universal tongue?
The world's great guardian, genius, god?
The Man of spoil, the Man of blood.
C
[...]sar, the butcher of mankind,
Loads with his praise each passing wind;
[Page 212] The general thief, adulterer, brute;
His boast to murder, waste, pollute;
Dread rival of Apollyon's fame;
His labours, arts, and praise, the same.
What most the heart with vice defiles;
Of worth disrobes; of heaven beguiles?
What bids in storms the passions roll;
Consigns to appetite the soul;
Bids Pride ascend th' ETERNAL'S throne,
And claim the universe, her own;
Ambition's vulture-wing expands,
Borne, hungry, keen, o'er suffering lands;
The wide world talon'd to his sway,
A field of death, and food, and prey!
What lights, for fell Revenge, the pyre;
Of Malice heats the quenchless fire;
And lifts Assassination's knife
Against a friend's, or parent's, life?
What stretches Avarice' gulphy maw,
And opens wide her shark-tooth'd jaw,
Both India's bowels to devour,
To drink the sea, and gorge the shore;
Calls forth, in viper paths, Disguise,
And points her thousand tongues with lies;
Bold, bronzy Fraud invests in mail,
And clips his weights, and lops his scale:
For Honour's house digs Forgery's mine,
And gilds his green, impoisoning coin;
Breaks tyger Rapine's iron cage,
And sends him loose, to roam, and rage:
Extortion rouses, from his lair,
The cote t' o'erleap, the flock to tear,
To make the fenceless poor his food,
And eat their flesh and drink their blood?
What fires, to phrenzy, Lewdness' veins;
Throws on Adultery's neck the reins;
Gives high-fed Rape at large to fly,
And makes the world a general stye:
Peoples a
[...] calm with sots, and swine,
And bids men live, to drink, and dine;
[Page 213] Tempts burrow'd Atheism abroad,
To infuriate man, to hiss at GOD,
To burst each moral bond divine,
And nature's magic
[...]inks disjoin,
The sense of common good erase,
Th' etherial stamp of HEAVEN deface,
Dog gentle peace, bait generous worth,
Haunt justice, truth, and law, from earth,
And bid in hell's subjected fire,
Religion's sky built fane expire?
What licks the final dregs of joy,
And leaves th' inverted vessel dry;
Makes earth, of virtue besom'd clean,
The cage of every beast obscene;
A ruin'd dome, whose walls around
The hollow moan of death resound;
An Afric sand; a Greenland shore;
Where life and comfort spring no more;
An image dark and drear of hell;
Where fiends, invok'd familiar dwell;
Where lost immortals Angels weep;
Where curses wake, and blessings sleep;
And GOD, the rebels forc'd t' abhor,
Repents his marr'd creation? War.
Say, Child of Nature! does thy tear
Start, as thy pain'd eye wanders here?
Thy cheek with manly blushes burn?
Thy wonted praise to curses turn?
Thy bosom waste with cankering woe?
And thy heart heave th' indignant throe?
Go then, ah go! whate'er thy lot;
Be thine the palace, or the cot,
To wield the rod, the yoke to bear,
A million, or a crown, to share,
The senate's guided hand to sway,
Or bid the little flock obey,
[Page 214] Go, ere thy heart be chang'd to stone,
Or ear find music in a groan,
Or gold the gates of pity bar,
Hate, curst, oppose, Tartarean war.
Disdain, despise, with horror name,
And give to never-dying shame,
The King, that thron'd for human good,
Consigns his realm to waste, and blood;
Senates, that, form'd for general weal,
Sanction the dread decree to kill;
Statesmen, to tygers chang'd by power,
That smile, and feast on human gore,
And chiefs, that havoc love to spread,
And pluck their wreaths from fields of dead.
But round thee gentle peace diffuse,
Her morning smiles, and evening dews;
Thy sons with love of peace inform;
Their hearts with sweet affections warm;
Bid them pernicious strife abhor,
And lisp the infant curse on war.
Far round thee light the genial fire;
Thy neighbours, and thy friends, inspire:
United, lift the ardent prayer,
That GOD thy ruin'd race may spare,
Wake in their hearts affections mild,
Sweet semblance of the meekly child,
MESSIAH'S peaceful sway extend,
Bid kings, and chiefs, to virtue bend,
Protract of life the little span,
And change the reasoning wolf to man.
[Page 215]
ELLA.—A NORWEGIAN TALE.
‘History
[...] that Sivard, King of Sweden, entered Norway with a numerous army, and committed the greatest enormities, but was at last overthrown, his Army routed, and himself slain by one of those women whom he had brutally abused.’
BETWEEN Norwegian hills, wide spreads a plain,
By Nature form'd for sport;
The vet'ran warrior here, and hardy swain,
To annual games resort.
High o'er their heads was hung the hoary brow,
Which cast an ample shade;
From thence these words majestic seem'd to flow—
"Fierce foes your sports invade!"
They upward gaze—a warrior struck their sight;
He bore aloft his lance,
All sheath'd in arms, insufferably bright,
Where beamy splendours dance.
The western sun beam round his helmet flies,
He more than man appears;
And more than mortal seem'd to sound the voice
That rang upon their ears.
Ye sons of Norway! hearken to my tale,
Your rural games, oh cease;
Sivard is marching through Dulvellon's vale,
Break off the sports of peace!
The bloody Sivard leads his conqu'ring Swedes,
He riots in our shame;
The man, the matron, and the infant bleeds—
Norway is but a name!
[Page 216]
The husband sees—curse on the tyrant's lust—
He sees his beauteous bride—
Her virtue, worth and honour in the dust—
On where is Norway's pride!
[...] rouse Norwegians! seize your arms
[...],
Let
[...] o'er shade the brow;
Let's meet these Swedish demons on the plain,
And lay their triumphs low.
Oh had you seen what these poor eyes have seen!
'Twas Sivard did the deed—
Our hoary monarch, and our helpless queen,
I—yes, I saw them bleed.
Their daughter Ella—no, I will not tell!
Norwegians ne'er enquire—
Ne'er hear it—what the royal maid befel;
I see your souls on sire.
Oh seize your swords, your spears, your helms, and shields!
Oh vindicate your fame!
Sivard and Sweden glare on Norway's fields;
Remember Norway's name.
He said, tears flow apace—fierce glow the swains,
Rage sills each honest breast;
In Swedish blood, to wipe away their stains
Was ev'ry thought addressed.
Then red hair'd Rollo, fierce advancing, cried,
Whoe'er thou art, come down!
We live on hills, to ev'ry toil we're tried,
And war is all our own.
Let Sivard come, we'll meet the tyrant here.
But Stranger come thou down.
He came; old Athold gaz'd with look severe;—
He gaz'd—but ceas'd to frown.
Or Athold has forgot his monarch's face,
Or sure thou art his son!
Eric, of mighty Norway's royal race!—
Full quick the tidings run.
[Page 217]
With shouts they press to see the beauteous chief;
The aged kiss his hand!
On either side fast roll'd the marks of grief,
Then Athold spoke the band—
Ye sons of Norway, to your homes repair,
There seize the sword and shield,
And ere the morning's purple streaks the air,
Meet Eric in the field.
Oh Prince! do you with aged Athold go,
And take refreshing sleep;
Athold will sing, and sooth the rising woe,
Or,—break his harp and weep.—
'Twas night—in Athold's hall each took his place;
Of other times he sung;
Fast stream'd the tears adown the hero's face,
And groans responsive rung.
Bright came the morn! and bright in batter'd arms
The rustic vet'rans came;
And many a youth, untried in rough alarms,
Now hop'd a patriot's name.
They heard from far the hum of Sivard's host;
Young Eric struck his shield;
Then high in air his heavy spear he tost,
And blaz'd along the field.
Next aged Athold follow'd; Rollo strong;
Black Calmar lifts his mace;
Culullin, Marco, Streno, rush along,
And all the rugged race.
Fierce came the Swede, in strength of numbers proud,
She scorn'd her feeble foe;
But soon the voice of battle roar'd aloud,
And many a Swede lay low.
Strong Rollo struck the towering Ol
[...]us dead,
Fall fifteen bl
[...]d beside.
Old Athold cleft the brave Adolphu's head,
In all his youthful pride.
[Page 218]
But Eric' Eric! tang'd the field around,
On Sivard still he cried:
The gasping Swedes lay heap'd upon the ground—
Sivard! the hills reply'd.
In fury Sivard seiz'd his shining shield,
His mail, his helm and spear;
He mounts his car, he thunders o'er the field;
And Norway knows to fear.
Great Rollo falls beneath his dreadful arm,
His steeds are stain'd with blood;
Young Eric smil'd to hear the loud alarm,
And flew to stop the flood.
He rag'd, he foam'd,—fierce flew the thirsty spear,
Down fell the foremost steed:
Astonish'd Sivard felt unusual sear—
"Tyrant, thou'rt doom'd to bleed."
Up sprung the youth—deep griding fell the sword
Sunk in the Tyrant's brow;
Fast fly the Swedes, and leave their hated lord,
His tow'ring pride laid low.
Now Norway's sons their great deliverer hail,
But lot he bleeds! he falls!
Old Athold strips the helm and beamy mail,
And on his Gods he calls.
He lifts the helm, and down the snowy neck
Fast falls the silky hair—
"And could those limbs, the conquering Sivard check,
Oh pow'r of great despair!—"
Life ebbs apace—she lifts her languid head,
She strives her hand to wave,
Confess'd to all, the beauteous Ella said—
"Thanks, thanks companions brave."
Freedom rewards you—naught can Ella give:
Low, low, poor Ella lies;
Sivard is dead! and Ella would not live.
She bleeds, she faints, she dies.
[Page 219]
THE COUNTRY SCHOOL.
FROM THE NEW-HAMPSHIRE SPY.
PUT to the door—the school's begun—
Stand in your places every one,—
Attend,—
Read in the bible,—tell the place—
"
Job twentieth and the seventeenth varse—
Caleb, begin.
And—
he—
shall—
suck—
Sir,—
Moses got a pin and stuck—
Silence,—stop Caleb—Moses! here!
What's this complaint?
I didn't, Sir,—
Hold up your hand,—What is't a pin?
O dear, I won't do so agin.
Read on.
The increase of his h—
h—
horse—
Hold: H, O, U, S, E, spells house.
Sir, what's this word? for I can't tell it.
Can't you indeed! Why spell it.
Spell it.
Begin yourself, I say.
Who, I?
Yes, try. Sure you can spell it.
Try.
Go, take your seats and primers, go,
You sha'n't abuse the bible so.
Will pray Sir Master mend my pen?
Say, Master, that's enough.—Here Ben,
Is this your copy? Can't you tell?
Set all your letters parallel.
I've done my sum—
'tis just a groat—
Let's see it.—
Master, m' I g' out?
Yes,—bring some wood in—What's that noise?
It is
[...] I, Sir, it's them boys.—
Come Billy, read—What's that?
That's A—
Sir,
Jim has snatch'd my rule away—
Return it, James.—Here, rule with this—
Billy, read on,—
That's crooked S.
[Page 220] Read in the spelling-book—Begin—
The boys are out—Then call them in—
My nose bleeds, mayn't I get some ice,
And h
[...]ld it in my breeches?—Yes.
John, keep your seat.
My sam is more—
Then do't again—Divide by four,
By twelve, and twenty—Mind the rule.
Now speak, Manassah, and spell tool.
I can't;—Well try—
T, W, L.
Not wash'd your hands yet, booby, ha?
You had your orders yesterday.
Give me the ferrule, hold your hand.
Oh! Oh! There,—mind my next command.
The grammar read. Tell where the place is.
C sounds like K in cat and cases.
[...] b
[...]ck is torn. The next.—
Here not—
[...] final makes it long—say note.
What are the stops and marks, Susannah?
Small points, Sir.—And how many Hannah?
Four, Sir. How many, George? You look:
Here's more than fifty in my book.
How's this? Just come, Sam?
Why I've been—
Who knocks?
I don't know, Sir. Come in.
"Your most obedient, Sir?"And yours.
Sit down, Sir, Sam, put to the doors.
What do you bring to tell that's new!
Nothing, that's either strange or true.
What a prodigious school! I'm sure
You've got a hundred here, or more.
A word, Sir, if you please.I will—
You girls, till I come in be still.
Come, we can dance to night—so you
Dismiss your brain distracting crew,
And come—For all the girls are there.
We'll have a fiddle and a player.
Well, mind and have the sleigh—bells sent,
I'll soon dismiss my regiment.
[Page 221]
Silence! The second class must read.
As quick as possible—proceed.
Not found your book yet? Stand—be fix'd—
The next read, stop—the next—the next.
You need not read again, 'tis well.
Come Tom and Dick, chuse sides to spell.
Will this word do? Yes, Tom spell dunce.
Sit still there all you little ones.
I've got a word, Well, name it.
Gizzard.
You spell it Sampson.—
G, I, Z.
Spell conscience, Jack.
K, O, N,
S, H, U, N, T, S.—Well done!
Put out the next—
mine is folks.
Tim, spell it—
P, H, O, U, X.
O shocking! Have you all try'd?
No.
Say Master, but no matter, go—
Lay by your books—and you, Josiah,
Help Jed to make the morning fire.
INVOCATION TO HOPE.
FROM THE MASSACHUSETTS MAGAZINE.
SOOTHER of Life! by whose delusive charm
This feeling heart resists the pointed woe,
Whose magic power, with fancied joys can warm,
And wipe the tear which Anguish taught to flow;
If, thro' the varied griefs my Youth has known,
No charm but these could raise my votive eye;
O leave me not, now every blessing's flown,
Whilst my sad bosom heaves the lengthen'd sigh.
The grated prison, and the love-form'd bower,
The wretch, whom Disappointment wastes away,
The frugal hut, the gilded dome of power,
Joy in thy smiles and court thy equal sway.
[Page 222]
By thee, the friendless sufferer learns to bear;
By thee, the patient heart forgets its woe;
Thou mak'st Misfortune's iron aspect fair,
And e'en the frozen cheek of Misery glow.
Leave me no more, as on that sated morn
When my rash soul the impious deed design'd,
And when, unconscious of thy blest return,
The for Despair usurp'd my tortur'd mind.
But yet, bright Goddess! with deceptive smile,
Come, and a host of Fictions in thy train,
With dreams of peace my wearied heart beguile.
And sink in
fancied bliss the
real pain.
CONSTANTIA.
PRAYER TO PATIENCE.
GODDESS of the steady eye!
All thy Apathy impart,
From a world of woe I fly,
Take, oh take me to thy heart!
Lend me all thy healing power,
Teach me to suppress the groan,
Let me while afflictions lour,
Turn like NIOBE
to stone.
Let me to the
sneer of scorn,
Still return the placid
smile,
Calm,—when angry passions frown,
Silent,—when the rude revile.
Check the tyrant of the mind,
Source of
sorrow, Foe to
thee;
Who can peace, or solace find,
Rack'd by
Sensibility!
[Page 223]
Snatch me from her wasting sway,
Shield me with thy firmer aid,
Let me still thy voice obey,
Gentle, peace preserving maid!
If greater pangs this bosom rend,
Than ever bosom felt before;
Further may thy sway extend,
Greater, deeper be thy power.
Be every
wrong disarm'd by thee,
Rob stern
Oppression of his pride,
Bid
Malice at thy presence flee,
Turn
Euoy's venom'd dart aside.
Let hard
Reproach soft kindness feel,
To cold
Disdain be pity lent,
From
Anger wrest his lifted steel,
From black
Revenge his discontent.
Goddess of the tearless eye!
Yet give me thy pacific charms;
To thy calm bosom let me fly,
And find a refuge in thy arms!
CONSTANTIA
CHARACTER OF ST. TAMANY.
IMMORTAL Tamany, of Indian race,
Great in the field, and foremost in the chace!
No puny saint was he, with fasting pale,
He climb'd the mountain, and he swept the vale,
Rush'd thro' the torrent with unequall'd might;
Your ancient saints would tremble at the sight;
[Page 224] Caught the swift boar, and swifter deer, with case,
And work'd a thousand miracles like these.
To public views he added private ends,
And lov'd his country most, and next his friends;
With courage long he strove to ward the blow,
(Courage we all respect ev'n in a foe,)
And when each effort he in vain had tried,
Kindled the flame in which he bravely died!
Let the full horn to Tamany go round,
His same let every honest tongue resound!
With him let ev'ry gen'rous patriot vie,
To live in freedom, or with honour die.
FINIS.