[117] Published in the Time-Piece and Literary Companion, May 15, 1797, under the title "Stanzas Written Some Years Since on Mr. Blanchard's Forty-fifth Ascension from the Jail-Yard in Philadelphia, January 9, 1793." Text from the 1795 edition.
ON HEARING[118]
A Political Oration, Superficially Composed on an Important Subject
Through which no art could find a clue,
And mean and shackling was the whole discourse
That kept me, Tully, long from you.
Seem'd like small laths, cleft from some heavy log;
I heard the inference, that no object hit—
All congelation, vapor, smoke, or fog.
That nothing proved, or on the expecting mind
Forced no conviction—just as well might sound
To the deaf ear with sentiments abound.
To find what sense or reason might apply:—
It came—attended with the false sublime,
And thread-bare truths, no mortal could deny.
Remarks devoid of dignity or power,
Exploded notions, dress'd in brilliant style,
Exhausted patience, and consumed the hour.
Before the walls the invader sat him down,
While those who mann'd them, at their foes enraged,
Threw many a load of ancient lumber down;
Bricks, tiles, and paving-stones, huge logs of timber,
Pump-water, cold or boiling, shovels, spades,—
And more, by far, than you or I remember.
Hard will it be one Federal to awake,
Trust me, although you scold, and chafe, and frown,
You may besiege, but are not like to take
Their three wall'd town.
[118] From the 1815 edition. In the edition of 1809 it bore the title: "The American Demosthenes. Occasioned by a very weak and insipid discourse on a Fourth of July, indirectly reprobating the Democratic Representative System." This version consisted of the first, second, and last stanzas above, with the following after the second stanza:
Were on the sleepy audience tumbled down;—
'Twas thus from forts, contrived in antique style,
From Troy's high walls
(Where flew no balls)
The men who fought
With reason thought,
They had a right
From that safe height,
(By way of lessening their besiegers' number)
To tumble on their heads
Rocks, beams, or roofs of sheds,
Cows' horns, bricks, rubbish, chamber pots, or lumber."
MEGARA AND ALTAVOLA[119]
To a Female Satirist (an English Actress) on receiving from her No. 1.
of a very Satirical and Biting Attack[A]
"O well-flown dart."—
Shakespeare's King Lear.
[A] Six copies only, of this little Poem were printed and sent to the satirist—here the correspondence ended, 1797.—Freneau's note.
And it must be repelled this night:
Ye Powers! assist us what to say,
For, from ourselves, we nothing write.
But when you writ—it struck us dead!—
Megara!—do forbear to write,
Or rage with less malignant spite.
Be you the sweet engaging girl—
Great in your smiles—weak in your arm—
All vengeance, with no power to harm.
A Raven's feather, black as jet,
And with the vengeance of the pen
Create confusion in your Den.
Shall temper down your heart of stone,
Turn storms of hail to showers of rain,
And bring your happy smiles again.
What folly for a Satire meant,
Peruse a fable that may blast,
And your number one—make number last.
A lady, in some ancient reign
(Perhaps in Greece, perhaps in Rome,
Perhaps in countries nearer home.)
Had put a suit of armour on:
With bow and arrows, and her fan
She conquered many an honest man.
A wight unseemely to her taste;
His brow, she thought, had too much frown;
Thought she, "I'll fetch the fellow down."
And to his breast the arrows go!
They tore a passage through his vest,
But bounded from his solid chest.
Then boarded him, and bit his fist—
Her grinders left a trifling mark—
They were not grinders of a shark.
Another feeble arrow threw,
Which though intended for one spot,
It glanced aside, and touched him not.
And said, She shall be plagued enough!
Then, swift as fate, her pace defied,
Out went her trot, and joined her side.—
When thus the ruffian hailed her, "Hoa!—
What, Madam, are your spirits low?—
Heave to!—you are my prisoner now!"—
She saw, her teeth would now be drawn:
She saw her weapons were his prize,
She saw it, and with flowing eyes,
And with a feeble squeak or two,
She faintly bawled out, Who are you?
"Perhaps I may inform you, Ma'am:
"I come from lands of Pure Delight,
"Where female warriors do not Bite.
"When I was old you were unborn:
"When I aspired on eagle's wings
"You were among unthought of things.
"You toy-shop on a strolling stage!
"You insect of a puny race,
"You baggage formed of gauze and lace!
"The proudest strength you can assume,
"Shakes not one feather from my plume.
"I sail upon the northern blast;
"Am mostly seen when whirlwinds rise,
"And love the storm that rends the skies.
"Then is my time to cut a dash:
"The clouds of hell alarm me less
"Than you, some sad old fashioned dress.
"I to this wrangling world descend,
"With force unknown, and pinions strong,
"I travel quick and stay not long.
"And pointed well at each extreme;
"It flies with a tremendous force,
"And rivals lightning in its course.
"I hate a Calm—and say, Begone
"Stagnation from this rolling ball,
"Or slumbers in this Dreadful All!
"In polar frosts my spirits glow—
"In the torrid zone, I temperate keep,
"And wake!—when you, Megara, sleep.
"Whose aspect would congeal your blood!
"A people on the infernal coast,
"Who know me well, and love me most.
"A ghostess, suited to my mind;
"Her wedding gown was flounced with soot,
"And near her nose hung snuff and smut:
"(A graveyard was his whole estate)
"The bars were weak, the boards were thin,
"She sung a psalm—and took me in.
"Composed of fogs, or framed of air:
"He sold his brimstone to the skies,
"While nitre kindled in Her eyes.
"Their glass of wine was evening dew;
"On Etna's top they made their bed,
"And there was I, their devil, bred.
"I blunt the edge of Orion's sword;
"I seize Aquarius by the throat,
"Nor care for Libra, or the Goat.
"Here's to the Lucky Wind that blows!
"And, instant, all is sighs and groans,
"And battered heads, and broken bones.
"I draw my weapon—see, how bright!
"My last exploit in war I crown,
"And thus—and thus—I throw you down!
"I only meant to—draw your teeth!—
"Oh no!—I scorn to take your life—
"Go, Madam,—be a prudent wife.
"But, lady, I would have you know
"You lose your arrows and your bow:
"And, in your hands might kill a rake:
"So, to prevent such fatal harms,
"I leave you destitute of arms—
"I now must go!"—he, laughing, said,
And vanished to the Stygian shade.
Thou dear, defeated Amazon!—
As happy, now, as man can be,
I hang my pen on yonder tree:
It yields to every changing blast—
Yes—let it stay suspended there,
And strike My Colours—if you dare!
[119] I have found no trace of this outside of the 1809 edition.
THE REPUBLICAN FESTIVAL[120]
In Compliment to Colonel Munroe, on his return to America, 1797
Her mark of attention to show,
Young liberty gave her libations to flow,
To honor where honor is due.
Where high in opinion he stood,
Dark malace attack'd him, with sneers, and with frowns,
But he met the applause of the good.
But freedom his merit confess'd—
He look'd at their malice, and saw it was fame,
And pity forgave them the rest.
And reason the pleasure increased;
And the hero, who captured the British Burgoyne,
Presided and honor'd the feast.
Baal-Zephou came riding the air;
He look'd, and he saw that among the whole band
Not a single apostate was there.
Till the toasts, with a vengeance, began—
He met the first four; when the next they gave out[A]
To his cavern he fled back again.
[A] Public censure, arm'd with the spear of Ithurial: may it discover the demons of tyranny, wherever they lurk, and pursue them to their native obscurity.—Freneau's note.
Could see not a man but he hates;
With a curse on her cause, and a sneer, and a spur
He fled from the frown of a Gates.
[120] From the edition of 1815. Monroe was United States Minister to France from May, 1794, until August, 1796, when he was recalled for lack of sympathy with the administration. He did not arrive in America until the following year. He was loudly hailed by the Republican forces, and a dinner was arranged for him in Philadelphia over which General Gates presided and at which Jefferson, the Vice President, Dayton, the Speaker, McKean, the Chief Justice, and many others conspicuous in the government were present.
ODE[121]
For July the Fourth, 1799
We meet on this auspicious day
That will, through every coming age,
Columbia's patriot sons engage.
Of freedom's reign, restored to earth,
And millions learn, too long depraved,
How to be govern'd, not enslaved.[122]
Fair peace, extend thy sway,
While to thy temple we invite
All nations on this day.[123]
How have ye darken'd every hour,
And made those hours embitter'd flow
That nature meant for joys below.
Oppression gave the world her law,
And man, who should such law disdain,
Resign'd to her malignant reign.
No more we dread the warring host
That once alarm'd, when Britain rose,
And made Columbia's sons her foes.
That stains the soul, that steels the heart,
Fierce war, with all thy bleeding band,
Molest no more this rising land.
All human woe and warfare cease,
And nations sheath the sword again
To find a long, pacific reign.[124]
And man to man be less severe;
The ties of love more firmly bind,
Not fetters, that enchain mankind.
Or short, too short, is freedom's reign,
And, if her precepts we despise,
Tyrants and kings again will rise.[125]
May man in every clime embrace,
And we on this remoter shore,
Exult in bloody wars no more.
May we to heaven our homage pay,
Happy, that here the time's began
That made mankind the friend of man!—
[121] From the edition of 1815. The title is manifestly wrong. The poem was first printed in a small pamphlet with the following title page:
"Means | for the | Preservation | of | Public Liberty. | An | Oration | delivered in the New Dutch Church, | on the | Fourth of July, 1797. | Being the twenty-first | Anniversary of our Independence. | By G. J. Warner. | [Ten lines from Freneau] | New York: | Printed at the Argus Office, | for | Thomas Greenleaf and Naphtali Judah. | 1797."
At the end of the pamphlet is the poem with the title: "Ode | (Composed for the Occasion, by P. Freneau.) | The Musick Performed | by the | Uranian Musical Society."
[122] This stanza in 1797 was:
All human woe for human bliss,
And nations that embrace again
Enjoy a long pacific reign."
[123] This stanza was the chorus to be repeated after every eight lines.
[124] This stanza is not in the original version.
ADDRESS[126]
To the Republicans of America
Or waft it onward to the coming age?—
Just as You say, whose efforts shook his throne,
And plucked the brightest gem from George's crown—
Who, armed in Freedom's cause with hearts of steel,
Have through these stormy times toiled for the common weal;
Nor quit that standard thousands have deserted,
By foreign arts, or gold, or titles re-converted.
Gave vigour to the cause that roused up men
When slavery's sons approached with Britain's fleet,
Still we demand your aid—for Britain hates you yet:
Not with the sword and gun she now contends
But wages silent war, and by corruption bends,
Foe to the system that enlightens man,
Here, thrones she would erect, and frustrate Freedom's plan.
Where yet no tyrant has his purpose gained,
Keep bright that flame which every bosom fired
When Hessian hirelings from these lands retired,
When, worn and wasted, all that murdering crew
And British squadrons from the Hudson flew;
When, leagued with France, you darts of vengeance hurled,
And bade defiance to the despot world.
Who soon will shove old actors from the stage,
To you the care of liberty they trust
When Washington and Gates are laid in dust—
When Jefferson, with Greene, in long repose
Shall sleep, unconscious of your bliss or woes,
Seeming to say, Be wise, be free, my sons,
Nor let one tyrant trample on our bones.
[125] The chorus at this point was changed in the original edition to:
Extend thy happy sway, etc."
[126] First published in the Time-Piece, September 13, 1797. Freneau used this poem to end Volume I of his edition of 1809. I have followed the latter version.
TO PETER PORCUPINE.[127]
The streets and the houses are nearly deserted,
But still there remain
Two Vipers, that's plain,
Who soon, it is thought, yellow flag will display;
Old Porcupine preaching,
And Fenno beseeching
Some dung-cart to wheel him away.
Or suffer such scullions to be your deceivers;
Will. Pitt's noisy whelp
With his red foxy scalp
Whom the kennels of London spew'd out in a fright,
Has skulk'd over here
To snuffle and sneer,
Like a puppy to snap, or a bull dog to bite.
[127] Published in the Time-Piece, September 13, 1797, and never again reprinted by Freneau. The poem bore the following introduction:
"Among a despicable mess of scurrility in one of Porcupine's Gazettes of last week, he mentions that 'he was plagued with the Time-Piece for several months.'—It has also been a plague to some others of his brethren, and will go on to be so, till they are hustled into their native dog kennels.—At the commencement of the Time-Piece, by way of soliciting an exchange of papers, the Editor transmitted one copy to each printer of a newspaper in Philadelphia. The compliment was immediately returned by them all except Porcupine. The Editor of the Time-Piece was in no want of his dirty vehicle of ribaldry, for the purposes of compilation. The paper, however, continued to be sent for a few weeks, till finding the hoggishness of the fellow, in not consenting to an exchange, the transmission was discontinued."
ON THE ATTEMPTED LAUNCH[128]
Of a Frigate, designed for war against a Sister Republic.—1798
May shipwrights fail to launch you hence,
At best, the comrade of old Nick—
Some folks will smile to see you stick.
And her the element upon;
What cause have we mad wars to wage
Or join the quarrels of the age?
Who show us no pacific face
Let's tread negociation's track
Before we venture to attack.
'Tis clearly seen who is the foe,
Who hastens, at no distant date,
To repossess his lost estate.
To cloud the gay columbian star,
I see them, bloody, brave and base
Make us the object of their chase.
All we possess will put to flight,
Or bear them off, with all on board,
To make a meal for George the third.
She must retreat while they pursue,
To make her drink affliction's cup,
And, heaven preserve us, eat her up.
'Tis plain, must be our lot at length,
To sweep the seas, to guard the shore,
And crush their haughtiest seventy four.
(The way that England plays her game)
Will to their bull-dogs fall a prey
The hour we get them under weigh.—
[128] Text from the 1815 edition.
ON THE LAUNCHING OF THE FRIGATE CONSTITUTION[129]
And near her stood a triple guard,
For fear of secret foes.
Some, tiptoe stood to see her start,
And would have said, with all their heart,
In raptures, there she goes!
Convinced them, she was made of wood
Though plann'd with art supreme;
All art, all force the ship defy'd—
Nor brilliant day, nor top of tide
Could urge her to the stream.
And some with honors diplomatic,
Advanced to see the show:
In vain the builder to her call'd—
In vain the shipwrights pull'd and haul'd—
She could not—would not go.
Observed the yet unfloating pile
As if he meant to say,
Builder, no doubt, you know your trade,
A constitution you have made
But should her ways have better laid.
To move from this unlucky spot,
Take our advice, and give them soon,
What should have long ago been done,
Amendments—You Know What.
[129] Text from 1815 edition.
ON THE FREE USE OF THE LANCET[130]
In Yellow Fevers[A]
[A] A practice very prevalent at the time the above was written.—Freneau's note.
From notes of twenty thousand lines
Held many a long dispute;
One argued this, one argued that,
And reverend wigs, as umpires sat,
All sophists to confute.
And teazed and puzzled simple men
To hold them in the dark;
But their long season now is past,
The churchman's horn has blown its blast,
Things take a different mark.
Stick lancet in the patient's vein
That burns with feverish heat:
The next contend, they're wholly wrong,
That life will leak away ere long
If thus the case they treat.
Perhaps to make some doctors pout:
Old Shelah, with her herbs and teas,
And scarce a shilling for her fees,
In many instances, at least,
When deaths and funerals increased,
Did more to dispossess the fever,
Did more from dying beds deliver
Than all the hippocratian host
Could by the lancet's virtue boast;
To which, I trow, full many a ghost
Will have a grudge forever.
[130] From the edition of 1815. The yellow fever epidemic of 1797 created more than usual consternation. It was supposed to be of a more deadly type than that of 1793. The medical profession was divided as to the treatment of the disease. "Two hostile schools sprang up. At the head of one was William Currie. Benjamin Rush led the other. The Currie men declared the fever was imported and contagious. The Rush school maintained that it was not. Filthy streets, they held, and loathsome alleys had much to do with the sickness, and they urged the use of mercurial purges and the copious letting of blood."—McMaster.
THE BOOK OF ODES[131]
[131] These odes first appeared in the Time-Piece, where they were published in rapid succession between October 16 and November 13, 1797. Three of them—the fourth, sixth, and eleventh—were republished, greatly revised, in the edition of 1809. The eighth, tenth, and thirteenth were used in revised form in the 1815 edition. The others are here republished for the first time.
The first ode, which is manifestly an adaptation of Dr. Watts' well-known hymn, seems to have been objected to in some quarters, for in the Time-Piece for December 22 appeared the following:
"Some serious animadversions appear in the Connecticut Courant on the first number of the Book of Odes, published in the Time-Piece of the 14th ult. being a profane parody, as the writer insinuates, on the first Psalm of David—where the aristocrat corresponds with the saint in the psalm, and the democrat with the impenitent sinner. These gentlemen writers ought to consider that the parody in question (as they choose to call it) was not meant to be sung through a deacon's nose, to the sound of the organ: nor yet to the timbrel of seven strings: it was merely intended to be harped upon out of doors, for the benefit of all good democrats, and the utter astoundment and confusion of the contrary character. In the name of common sense how did the printers of the Connecticut Courant dare to act so irreverantly as to place the parody before the psalm? Are they trampling on all sanctity; or what do they mean? Let them beware—serious times are coming on, gentlemen:
A mere old woman's qualm—
And good king David's lyric harp,
May close it—with a psalm.'"
ODE I
"He that readeth not in the Book of Odes is like a man standing with his face against a wall; he can neither move a step forward, nor survey any object."—Hau Kiou Choaan.
Where Demo's love to meet,
Who scorns to gnaw their bread and cheese,
And hates their small beer treat:
Doth place his whole delight,
And there by day eats force-meat balls,
And roasted hogs by night.
Near Hartford that doth grow,
Shall creep, and spread, and twist, and twine,
And shade the weeds below.
He'll swell to station high,
While Democrats confus'd appear
As he rides rattling by.
And Democratic phiz;
Want, toil, and every plague on earth,
Shall certainly be his.
Shall his condition be,
Who to the men of royal style
Neglects to bend the knee.
May starve on bread and cheese,
And soon shall be without a coat
Or sent to pay jail-fees.
ODE II[132]
To the Frigate Constitution
"A ship carpenter being once asked, what sort of ships are the safest, he answered, those which are hauled up on dry land."