Read Ebook: The Poems of Philip Freneau Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 3 (of 3) by Freneau Philip Morin Pattee Fred Lewis Editor

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Ebook has 2667 lines and 139952 words, and 54 pages

PAGE

PART IV

PART V

ON THE SYMPTOMS OF HOSTILITIES 291 LINES ADDRESSED TO MR. JEFFERSON 293 ON THE PROSPECT OF WAR 296 ON THE BRITISH COMMERCIAL DEPREDATIONS 300 TO AMERICA 301 THE SUTTLER AND THE SOLDIER 304 MILITARY RECRUITING 308 ON THE CAPTURE OF THE GUERRIERE 310 THEODOSIA 312 IN MEMORY OF JAMES LAWRENCE, ESQUIRE 313 ON THE LAKE EXPEDITIONS 314 THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE 315 ON THE CAPTURE OF THE UNITED STATES FRIGATE ESSEX 318 THE TERRIFIC TORPEDOES 321 THE NORTHERN MARCH 329 ON POLITICAL SERMONS 330 LINES ON NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 333 ON THE DISMISSION OF BONAPARTE 334 THE PRINCE REGENT'S RESOLVE 336 THE VOLUNTEER'S MARCH 337 THE BATTLE OF STONINGTON 338 ON THE BRITISH INVASION 341 ON THE ENGLISH DEVASTATIONS AT WASHINGTON 343 ON THE CONFLAGRATIONS AT WASHINGTON 344 TO THE LAKE SQUADRONS 347 THE BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN 349 A DIALOGUE AT WASHINGTON'S TOMB 352 SIR PETER PETRIFIED 354 ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL ROSS 356 ON THE NAVAL ATTACK NEAR BALTIMORE 357 ON THE BRITISH BLOCKADE 358 ROYAL CONSULTATIONS 361 ON THE LOSS OF THE PRIVATEER BRIGANTINE GENERAL ARMSTRONG 363 ON THE BRIGANTINE PRIVATEER PRINCE DE NEUFCHATEL 366 THE PARADE AND SHAM-FIGHT 368 RETALIATION 373 ON THE LAUNCHING OF THE INDEPENDENCE 374 THE BROOK OF THE VALLEY 376

A. THE AMERICAN VILLAGE, &C. THE AMERICAN VILLAGE 381 THE FARMER'S WINTER EVENING 394 THE MISERABLE LIFE OF A PEDAGOGUE 396 UPON A VERY ANCIENT DUTCH HOUSE ON LONG ISLAND 399 B. LIST OF OMITTED POEMS 401 C. BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POETRY OF PHILIP FRENEAU 407

INDEX 419

PART IV

THE PERIOD OF EDITORSHIP

THE

POEMS OF PHILIP FRENEAU

NEVERSINK

These Hills, the pride of all the coast, To mighty distance seen, With aspect bold and rugged brow, That shade the neighbouring main: These heights, for solitude design'd, This rude, resounding shore-- These vales impervious to the wind, Tall oaks, that to the tempest bend, Half Druid, I adore.

From distant lands, a thousand sails Your hazy summits greet-- You saw the angry Briton come, You saw him, last, retreat! With towering crest, you first appear The news of land to tell; To him that comes, fresh joys impart, To him that goes, a heavy heart, The lover's long farewell.

Your thousand springs of waters blue What luxury to sip, As from the mountain's breast they flow To moisten Flora's lip! In vast retirements herd the deer, Where forests round them rise, Dark groves, their tops in aether lost, That, haunted still by Huddy's ghost, The trembling rustic flies.

Proud heights! with pain so often seen, On your firm base I take my stand, Tenacious of the shore:-- Let those who pant for wealth or fame Pursue the watery road;-- Soft sleep and ease, blest days and nights, And health, attend these favourite heights, Retirement's blest abode!

"In early days and vanished years To rougher toils resigned, You saw me rove in search of care And leave true bliss behind; You saw me rig the barque so trim," etc.

See Volume II, page 193.

THE RISING EMPIRE

ON AMERICAN ANTIQUITY.

America, to every climate known, Spreads her broad bosom to the burning zone, To either pole extends her vast domain Where varying suns o'er different summers reign. Wide wandering streams, vast plains, and pathless woods, Bold shores, confined by circumscribing floods, Denote this land, whose fertile, flowery breast Teems with all life--and man, its nobler guest. In days of old, from ocean's deepest bed, Gulphs unexplored, and countries of the dead, Rous'd by some voice, that shook all nature's frame, From the vast depths this new creation came: Perpetual change its varying nature feels, The wave once flow'd that now with frost congeals, Suns on its breast have shed a feebler fire, Oceans have roll'd where mountains now aspire. The soil's proud lord a changeful temper knows, From differing earths his various nature grows: Long, long before the time that sophists plan Existed in these woods the race of man, Warm'd into life by some creating flame, All worlds pervading, and through all, the same! Not from the west their swarthy tribes they brought, As Europe's pride and Asia's folly taught;-- With the same ease the great disposing power Produced a man, a reptile, or a flower:-- See the swift deer, in lonely wilds that strays, See the tall elk, that in the valley plays, See the fierce tiger's raging, ravenous band, And wolves Did these of old from bleak Kamschatka come, And traverse seas, to find a happier home?-- No?--from the dust, this common dust, they drew Their different forms, proud man, that moulded you. At first, half beasts, untaught to till the land, Careless, you fed from Nature's fostering hand; In depths of deserts dream'd your lives away, Sought no new worlds, nor look'd beyond to-day: The Almighty power, that lives and breathes through all, Bade some faint rays on these dark nations fall; Early, to them did reasoning souls impart, Inventive genius, and some dawn of art; Then left them here, with sense enough to win, Or cheat the bear, or panther of his skin; Mean huts to build, regardless of their form, Completely blest, if shelter'd from the storm; To see the seasons change, day turn to night: Bow to the lamps of heaven that gave them light, Beam'd on the spring, or bade the summer glow, Their harvests ripen, and their gardens grow--

A VIEW OF RHODE ISLAND

TERRA VULPINA, OR, THE LAND OF FOXES

Here fond remembrance stampt her much loved names, Here boasts the soil its London and its Thames; Through all her shores commodious ports abound, Clear flow the waters of the unequal ground; Cold nipping winds a lengthened winter bring, Late rise the products of the unwilling spring, The impoverished fields the labourer's pains disgrace, And hawks and vultures scream through all the place; The broken soil a nervous breed requires, Where the rough glebe no generous crops admires-- Dame Nature meanly did her gifts impart, But smiles to see how much is forced by art. As Boreas keen, who guides their wintry reign, All bow to lucre, all are bent on gain. In contact close their neat abodes are thrown, Its house, each acre; every mile, its town; With glittering spire the frequent church is seen, Where yews and myrtles wave their gloomy green, Where fast-day sermons tell the hungry guest That a cameleon's dinner is the best: There mobs of deacons awe the ungodly wight, And hell's black master meets the unequal fight-- Eternal squabblings grease the lawyer's paw, All have their suits, and all have studied Law: With tongue, that Art and Nature taught to speak, Some rave in Latin, some dispute in Greek: Proud of their parts, in ancient lore they shine, And one month's study makes a learned Divine; Bards of huge fame in every hamlet rise, Each of Virgilian size: Even beardless lads a rhyming knack display-- Iliads begun, and finished in a day! Rhymes, that of old on Blackmore's wheel were spun, Come rattling down on Zion's reverend son; Madly presumed time's vortex to defy! Things born to live an hour--then squeak and die. Some, to grow rich, through Indian forests roam, Some deem it best to stay and thrive at home: In spite of all the priest and squire can say, This world--this wicked world--will have its way; Honest through fear, religious by constraint, How hard to tell the sharper from the saint!-- Fond of discourse, with deep designing views They pump the unwary traveller of his news; Fond of that news, but fonder to be paid, Each house a tavern, claims a tavern's trade, While he that comes as surely hears them praise The hospitality of modern days. Yet, brave in arms, of enterprizing soul, They tempt old Neptune to the farthest pole, In learning's walks explore the mazy way, In war's bold art through many a contest tried True to themselves, they took the nobler side, And party feuds forgot, joined to agree That power alone supreme--that left them free.

MASSACHUSETTS

Here, in vast flocks, the fleecy nation strays, Here, endless herds the upland meadow graze, Here smiling plenty crowns the labourer's pain And blooming beauty weds the industrious swain: Were this thy all, what happier state could be!-- But avarice drives the native to the sea, Fictitious wants all thoughts of ease controul, Proud Independence sways the aspiring soul, 'Midst foreign waves, a stranger to repose, Through the moist world the keen adventurer goes; Not India's seas restrain his daring sail, Far to the south he seeks the polar whale: From those vast banks where frequent tempests rave, And fogs eternal brood upon the wave, There his daring hold he keeps, Drags from their depths the natives of those deeps; Then to some distant clime explores his way, Bold avarice spurs him on--he must obey. Yet from such aims one great effect we trace That holds in happier bonds this restless race; Like some deep lake, by circling shores comprest, Man's nature tends to universal rest: Unfed by springs, that find some secret pass To mix their current with the mightier mass, Unmoved by moons, that some strange impulse guides To lift its waters, and propel its tides, Unvext by winds, that scowl across its waste, Tear up the wave, and discompose its breast, Soon would that lake Lose all its virtue, praised or prized by none: Thus, avarice lends new vigour to mankind, Not vainly planted in the unsteady mind; With her, Ambition linked, they proudly drive, Rule all our race, and keep the world alive. Here, first, to quench her once loved Freedom's flame, With their proud fleets, Britannia's warriors came; Here, sure to conquer, she began her fires, Here, sent her lords, her admirals, and her squires: All, all too weak to effect the vast design For which we saw half Europe's arms combine, Uncounted navies rove from main to main, Threats, bribery, treachery--tried and tried again; Mandate on mandate, edict, and decree, To rivet fetters, and enslave the free! Long, long from Boston's hills shall strangers gaze On those vast mounds that magic seemed to raise; Stupendous piles that hastened Britain's flight, Extended hills, the offspring of a night!-- In that devoted town they hoped to stay And, fed by rapine, sleep soft years away: Vain hopes, vain schemes--the unconquered spirit rose That still survived through all succeeding woes; Imprisoned crowds, in cruel durance held, Disarmed, restrained from honour's earliest field; Imprisoned thousands, worn with poignant grief, Now, half adoring, met their guardian chief, Whose thundering cannon bade the foe retreat, Disgrace their portion, and their rout complete.

A BATAVIAN PICTURE

Sons of the earth, for plodding genius fam'd, Batavia long her earth-born natives claim'd: Begot from industry, and not from love, Swarming at length, to these fair climes they move.-- Still in these climes their numerous race survive, And, born to labour, still are found to thrive; Thro' rain and sunshine toiling for their heirs They hold no nation on this earth like theirs. Fond of themselves, no generous motives bind, To those that speak their gibberish, only kind:-- Yet still some virtues, candour must confess, And truth shall own, some virtues they possess: Where'er they fix, all nature smiles around Groves bend with fruit and plenty clothes the ground; No barren trees to shade their domes are seen, Trees must be fertile, and their dwellings clean, No idle fancy dares its whims apply, Or hope attention from the master's eye, All tends to something that must pelf produce, All for some end, and every thing its use:-- Eternal scowerings keep their floors afloat, Neat as the outside of the Sunday coat; The hoe, the loom, the female band employ, These all their pleasure, these their darling joy;-- The strong-ribb'd lass no idle passions move, No frail ideas of romantic love; He to her heart the readiest path can find Who comes with gold, and courts her to be kind, She heeds not valour, learning, wit, or birth, Minds not the swain--but asks him what he's worth. No female fears in her firm breast prevail, The helm she handles and she trims the sail, In some small barque the way to market finds, Hauls aft the sheet, or veers it to the winds, While placed a-head, subservient to her will, Hans smokes his pipe, and wonders at her skill. Health to their toils--thus may they still go on-- Curse on my pen! What pictures have I drawn! Is this the general taste? No -- If fond of beauty, guiltless of disguise, See-- The fair Cesarean shades her lovely face,-- She, earlier held to happier tasks at home, Prefers the labours that her sex become, Remote from view, directs some favourite art, And leaves to hardier man the ruder part.

PENNSYLVANIA

Spread with stupendous hills, far from the main, Fair Pennsylvania holds her golden rein, In fertile fields her wheaten harvest grows, Charged with its freights her favorite Delaware flows; From Erie's Lake her soil with plenty teems To where the Schuylkill rolls his limpid streams-- Sweet stream! what pencil can thy beauties tell-- Where, wandering downward through the woody vale, Thy varying scenes to rural bliss invite, To health and pleasure add a new delight: Here Juniata, too, allures the swain, And gay Cadorus roves along the plain; Sweetara, tumbling from the distant hill, Steals through the waste, to turn the industrious mill-- Where'er those floods through groves or mountains stray, That God of Nature still directs the way, With fondest care has traced each river's bed And mighty streams thro' mighty forests led, Bade agriculture thus export her freight, The strength and glory of this favoured State. She, famed for science, arts, and polished men, Admires her Franklin, but adores her Penn, Who, wandering here, made barren forests bloom, And the new soil a happier robe assume: He planned no schemes that virtue disapproves, He robbed no Indian of his native groves, But, just to all, beheld his tribes increase, Did what he could to bind the world in peace, And, far retreating from a selfish band, Bade Freedom flourish in this foreign land. Gay towns unnumbered shine through all her plains, Here every art its happiest height attains: The graceful ship, on nice proportions planned, Here finds perfection from the builder's hand, To distant worlds commercial visits pays, Or war's bold thunder o'er the deep conveys.

MARYLAND

Laved by vast depths that swell on either side Where Chesapeake intrudes his midway tide, Gay Maryland attracts the admiring eye, A fertile region with a temperate sky. In years elapsed, her heroes of renown From British Anna named one favourite town: But, lost her commerce, though she guards their laws, Proud Baltimore that envied commerce draws. Few are the years since there, at random placed, Some wretched huts her quiet-port disgraced; Safe from all winds, and covered from the bay, There, at his ease, the thoughtless native lay. Now, rich and great, no more a slave to sloth, She claims importance from her towering growth-- High in renown, her streets and domes arranged, A groupe of cabins to a city changed. Though rich at home, to foreign lands they stray, For foreign trappings trade the wealth away. Politest manners through their towns prevail, And pleasure revels, though their funds should fail; In each gay dome, soft music charms its lord, Where female beauty strikes the trembling chord; On the fine air with nicest touches dwells, While from the tongue the according ditty swells: Proud to be seen, 'tis their's to place delight In dances measured by the winter's night, The evening feast, that wine and mirth prolong, The lamp of splendor, and the midnight song. Religion here no gloomy garb assumes, Exchanged her tears for patches and for plumes: The blooming belle Talks not of seraphs, but the world she's in: Attached to earth, here born, and to decay, She leaves to better worlds all finer clay. In those, whom choice or different fortunes place On rural scenes, a different mind we trace; There solitude, that still to dullness tends, To rustic forms no sprightly action lends; Heeds not the garb, mopes o'er the evening fire; And bids the maiden from the man retire. On winding floods the lofty mansion stands, That casts a mournful view o'er neighbouring lands; There the sad master strays amidst his grounds, Directs his negroes, or reviews his hounds; Then home returning, plies his pasteboard play, Or dreams o'er wine, that hardly makes him gay: If some chance guest arrive in weary plight, He more than bids him welcome for the night; Kind to profusion, spares no pains to please, Gives him the product of his fields and trees; On his rich board shines plenty from her source, --The meanest dish of all his own discourse.

OLD VIRGINIA

Vast in extent, Virginia meets our view, With streams immense, dark groves, and mountains blue; First in provincial rank she long was seen, Built the first town, and first subdued the plain: This was her praise--but what can years avail, When times succeeding see her efforts fail! On northern fields more vigorous arts display, Where pleasure holds no universal sway; No herds of slaves parade their sooty band From the rough plough to save the fopling's hand, Where urgent wants the daily pittance ask, Compel to labour, and complete the task. A race of slaves, throughout their country spread, From different soils extort the owner's bread; Averse to toil, the natives still rely On the sad negro for the year's supply; He, patient, early quits his poor abode, Toils at the hoe, or totes some ponderous load, Sweats at the axe, or, pensive and forlorn, Sighs for the eve, to parch his stinted corn! With watchful eye maintains his much-loved fire, Nor even in summer lets its sparks expire-- At night returns, his evening toils to share, Lament his rags, or sleep away his care, Bind up the recent wound, with many a groan; Or thank his gods that Sunday is his own. To these far climes the scheming Scotchman flies, Quits his bleak hills to court Virginian skies; Removed from oat-meal, sour-crout, debts, and duns, Prudent, he hastes to bask in kinder suns; Marks well the native--views his weaker side, And heaps up wealth from luxury and pride, Exports the produce of a thousand plains, Nor fears a rival, to divide his gains. Deep in their beds, as distant to their source Here many a river winds its wandering course: Proud of her bulky freight, through plains and woods Moves the tall ship, majestic, o'er the floods, Where James's strength the ocean brine repels, Or, like a sea, the deep Potowmack swells: Yet here the sailor views with wondering eye Impoverished fields that near their margins lie, Mercantile towns, where languor holds her reign, And boors inactive, on the exhausted plain.

Followed in the original version by the line:

"Sacred to him, that taught them to be keen;"

The fourteen lines following this are not in the original version.

In the edition of 1795 this reads "Greenfield's reverend son," alluding to Dr. Dwight.

In the index to the 1809 edition the title was "Lines on the old patriotic state, Massachusetts."

The original title of this poem was "A Characteristic Sketch of the Long Island Dutch."

In the edition of 1795 this bore the title "Virginia. "

"Yet shall not malice rob them of their due, Not all their worth is center'd in a few: On Fame's bright lists their sages they enroll, Theirs is the brave, and high aspiring soul, Heroes and chiefs, the firm unconquer'd mind That rul'd in councils, or in battles shin'd, Sent traitorous bands new regions to explore And drove their titled miscreant from the shore."

The original version added here the following:

The original version added here the couplet:

"While the keen lash some little tyrant wields, Foe to the free-born genius of the fields."

The original version added here:

"Silent beholds His whole year's labour lost on Mammon's coach!"

LOG-TOWN TAVERN

Through sandy wastes and floods of rain To this dejected place I came, Where swarthy nymphs, in tattered gowns, From pine-knots catch their evening flame:

Where barren oaks, in close array, With mournful melody condole; Where no gay fabrics meet the eye, Nor painted board, nor barber's pole.

Thou town of logs! so justly called, In thee who halts at evening's close, Not dreams from Jove, but hosts of fleas Shall join to sweeten his repose.

A curse on this dejected place Where cold, and hot, and wet, and dry, And stagnant ponds of ample space The putrid steams of death supply.

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