[66] Text from the 1795 edition.
ODE TO LIBERTY[67]
Thou Liberty! celestial light
So long conceal'd from Gallic lands,
Goddess, in ancient days ador'd
By Gallia's conquering bands:
Thou Liberty! whom savage kings
Have plac'd among forbidden things,
Tho' still averse that man be free,
Secret, they bow to Liberty—
O, to my accents lend an ear,
Blest object of each tyrant's fear,
While I to modern days recall
The Lyric muse of ancient Gaul.
So long conceal'd from Gallic lands,
Goddess, in ancient days ador'd
By Gallia's conquering bands:
Thou Liberty! whom savage kings
Have plac'd among forbidden things,
Tho' still averse that man be free,
Secret, they bow to Liberty—
O, to my accents lend an ear,
Blest object of each tyrant's fear,
While I to modern days recall
The Lyric muse of ancient Gaul.
Ere yet my willing voice obeys
The transports of the heart,
The goddess to my view displays
A temple rear'd in ancient days,
Fit subject for the muse's art.
Now, round the world I cast my eye,
With pain, its ruins I descry:
This temple once to Freedom rais'd
Thermopylae! in thy fam'd strait—
I see it to the dust debas'd,
And servile chains, its fate!
The transports of the heart,
The goddess to my view displays
A temple rear'd in ancient days,
Fit subject for the muse's art.
Now, round the world I cast my eye,
With pain, its ruins I descry:
This temple once to Freedom rais'd
Thermopylae! in thy fam'd strait—
I see it to the dust debas'd,
And servile chains, its fate!
In those fair climes, where freedom reign'd,
Two thousand years degrade the Grecian name,
I see them still enslav'd, enchain'd;
But France from Rome and Athens caught the flame—
A temple now to heaven they raise
Where nations bound in ties of peace
With olive-boughs shall throng to praise
The gallant Gaul, that bade all discord cease.
Two thousand years degrade the Grecian name,
I see them still enslav'd, enchain'd;
But France from Rome and Athens caught the flame—
A temple now to heaven they raise
Where nations bound in ties of peace
With olive-boughs shall throng to praise
The gallant Gaul, that bade all discord cease.
Before this Pantheon, fair and tall,
The piles of darker ages fall,
And freemen here no longer trace
The monuments of man's disgrace:
Before its porch, at Freedom's tree
Exalt the Cap of Liberty,
The cap[A] that once Helvetia knew
(The terror of the tyrant crew)
And on our country's altar trace
The features of each honour'd face—
The men that strove for equal laws,
Or perish'd, martyrs in their cause.
The piles of darker ages fall,
And freemen here no longer trace
The monuments of man's disgrace:
Before its porch, at Freedom's tree
Exalt the Cap of Liberty,
The cap[A] that once Helvetia knew
(The terror of the tyrant crew)
And on our country's altar trace
The features of each honour'd face—
The men that strove for equal laws,
Or perish'd, martyrs in their cause.
[A] Which owes its origin to William Tell, the famous deliverer of Switzerland.—Freneau's note.
Ye gallant chiefs, above all praise,
Ye Brutuses of ancient days!
Tho' fortune long has strove to blast,
Your virtues are repaid at last.
Your heavenly feasts awhile forbear
And deign to make my song your care;
My lyre a bolder note attains,
And rivals old Tyrtœus' strains;
The ambient air returns the sound,
And kindles rapture all around.
Ye Brutuses of ancient days!
Tho' fortune long has strove to blast,
Your virtues are repaid at last.
Your heavenly feasts awhile forbear
And deign to make my song your care;
My lyre a bolder note attains,
And rivals old Tyrtœus' strains;
The ambient air returns the sound,
And kindles rapture all around.
With thee begins the lofty theme,
Eternal Nature—power supreme,
Who planted Freedom in the mind,
The first great right of all mankind:
Too long presumptuous folly dar'd
To veil our race from thy regard;
Tyrants on ignorance form'd their plan,
And made their crimes, the crimes of man,
Let victory but befriend our cause
And reason deign to dictate laws;
And once mankind their rights reclaim
And honour pay to thy great name.—
Eternal Nature—power supreme,
Who planted Freedom in the mind,
The first great right of all mankind:
Too long presumptuous folly dar'd
To veil our race from thy regard;
Tyrants on ignorance form'd their plan,
And made their crimes, the crimes of man,
Let victory but befriend our cause
And reason deign to dictate laws;
And once mankind their rights reclaim
And honour pay to thy great name.—
But O! what cries our joys molest,
What discord drowns sweet music's feast!
What demon, from perdition, leads
Night, fire and thunder o'er our heads!
In northern realms, prepar'd for fight,
A thousand savage clans unite.—
To avenge a faithless Helen's doom
All Europe's slaves, determin'd, come
Freedom's fair fabric to destroy
And wrap in flames our modern Troy!
What discord drowns sweet music's feast!
What demon, from perdition, leads
Night, fire and thunder o'er our heads!
In northern realms, prepar'd for fight,
A thousand savage clans unite.—
To avenge a faithless Helen's doom
All Europe's slaves, determin'd, come
Freedom's fair fabric to destroy
And wrap in flames our modern Troy!
These these are they—the murdering bands,
Whose blood, of old, distain'd our lands,
By our forefathers chac'd and slain,
The monuments of death remain:
Hungarians, wet with human blood,
Ye Saxons fierce, so oft subdued
By ancient Gauls on Gallic plains,
Dread, dread the race that still remains:
Return, and seek your dark abodes,
Your dens and caves in northern woods,
Nor stay to tell each kindred ghost
What thousands from your tribes are lost.
Whose blood, of old, distain'd our lands,
By our forefathers chac'd and slain,
The monuments of death remain:
Hungarians, wet with human blood,
Ye Saxons fierce, so oft subdued
By ancient Gauls on Gallic plains,
Dread, dread the race that still remains:
Return, and seek your dark abodes,
Your dens and caves in northern woods,
Nor stay to tell each kindred ghost
What thousands from your tribes are lost.
A friend[B] from hell, of murderous brood,
Stain'd with a hapless husband's blood,
Unites with Danube[C] and the Spree,[C]
Who arm to make the French their prey:
To check their hosts and chill with fear,
Frenchmen, advance to your frontier.
There dig the Eternal Tomb of kings,
Or Poland's fate each monster brings,
Mows millions down, your cause defeats,
And Ismael's horrid scene[D] repeats.
Stain'd with a hapless husband's blood,
Unites with Danube[C] and the Spree,[C]
Who arm to make the French their prey:
To check their hosts and chill with fear,
Frenchmen, advance to your frontier.
There dig the Eternal Tomb of kings,
Or Poland's fate each monster brings,
Mows millions down, your cause defeats,
And Ismael's horrid scene[D] repeats.
[B] Catharine the 2d, present Empress of Russia, who deposed her husband, Peter the 3d, and deprived him of life in July, 1762, while in prison.—Freneau's note.
[C] Two great rivers of Germany; here metaphorically designating the Austrian and Prussian powers.—Ib.
[D] The Turkish fortress of Ismael, in 1786, stormed by the Russian army. After carrying it by assault, upwards of 30,000 persons, men, women, and children were slaughtered by the Russian barbarians, in less than three hours.—Ib.
Ye nations brave, so long rever'd,
Whom Rome, in all her glory, fear'd;
Whose stubborn souls no tyrant broke
To bow the neck to Cæsar's yoke—
Scythians! whom Romans never chain'd;
Germans! that unsubdued remain'd,
Ah! see your sons, a sordid race,
With despots leagu'd, to their disgrace
Aid the base cause that you abhor,
And hurl on France the storm of war.
Whom Rome, in all her glory, fear'd;
Whose stubborn souls no tyrant broke
To bow the neck to Cæsar's yoke—
Scythians! whom Romans never chain'd;
Germans! that unsubdued remain'd,
Ah! see your sons, a sordid race,
With despots leagu'd, to their disgrace
Aid the base cause that you abhor,
And hurl on France the storm of war.
Our bold attempts shake modern Rome,
She bids her kindred despots come;
From Italy her forces draws
To waste their blood in Tarquin's cause:
A hundred hords of foes advance,
Embodying on the verge of France;
'Mongst these, to guide the flame of war,
I see Porsenna's[E] just a score,
While from the soil, by thousands, spring
Scevola's[F] to destroy each king.
She bids her kindred despots come;
From Italy her forces draws
To waste their blood in Tarquin's cause:
A hundred hords of foes advance,
Embodying on the verge of France;
'Mongst these, to guide the flame of war,
I see Porsenna's[E] just a score,
While from the soil, by thousands, spring
Scevola's[F] to destroy each king.
[E] An ancient king of Etruria who took Tarquin's part against the Romans.—Freneau's note.
[F] Scevola, who attempted the life of Porsenna in his own camp, but failed.—Ib.
O Rome! what glory you consign
To those who court your ancient fame!
Frenchmen, like Romans, now shall shine,
And copying them, their ancient honours claim.
O France, my native clime, my country dear,
While youth remains, may I behold you free,
Each tyrant crush'd, no threatening despot near
To endanger Liberty!
By you unfetter'd be all human kind,
No slaves on earth be known
And man be blest, in friendship join'd,
From Tyber to the Amazon!
To those who court your ancient fame!
Frenchmen, like Romans, now shall shine,
And copying them, their ancient honours claim.
O France, my native clime, my country dear,
While youth remains, may I behold you free,
Each tyrant crush'd, no threatening despot near
To endanger Liberty!
By you unfetter'd be all human kind,
No slaves on earth be known
And man be blest, in friendship join'd,
From Tyber to the Amazon!
[67] The Philadelphia General Advertiser of May 21, 1793, reports in full the "Republican dinner" given Genet, May 18, at which about one hundred citizens were present, chiefly "French, French-Americans, officers of the Frigate l'Embuscade, etc." The following is from this report:
"After the third toast [The United States], an elegant ode, suited to the occasion, and composed by Citizen Pichon, a young Frenchman of promising abilities, was read by Citizen Duponceau, and universally applauded. The society, on motion, ordered that Citizen Freneau should be requested to translate it into English verse, and that the original and translation should be published. The society also unanimously voted that Citizen Pichon should be recommended to the notice of the Minister."
The French version of the Ode appeared in the Advertiser on May 27; the translation was printed May 31. Both ode and translation were published in the edition of 1795, the text of which I have followed. It was not republished in 1809. Following is the French text as it appeared in the Advertiser:
Ode a la Liberte.
By Citizen Pichon, read at the late dinner given to Citizen
Genet, by the French of this City.
O toi, dont l'auguste lumiere
Si long tems avait fui nos yeux!
Toi, jadis l'idole premiere
De mes invincibles ayeux,
Liberte, qu'un tyran sauvage,
A l'instant meme qu'il t'outrage
Honore par des vœux secrets;
A mes accens prete l'oreille,
Aujourdhui ma muse reveille
L'antique lutte des vieux Français.
Si long tems avait fui nos yeux!
Toi, jadis l'idole premiere
De mes invincibles ayeux,
Liberte, qu'un tyran sauvage,
A l'instant meme qu'il t'outrage
Honore par des vœux secrets;
A mes accens prete l'oreille,
Aujourdhui ma muse reveille
L'antique lutte des vieux Français.
Avant que ma voix obeisse
Au transport que saisit mes sens,
Montre moi deesse propice
Un temple digne de mes chants!
Mon oeil a parcouru la terre
J'y trouve a peine la pouissiere
D'un dome a ton nom consacré,
Un tyran siege aux Thermopyles
Et sous les chaines les plus viles
Le capitole est encombré.
Au transport que saisit mes sens,
Montre moi deesse propice
Un temple digne de mes chants!
Mon oeil a parcouru la terre
J'y trouve a peine la pouissiere
D'un dome a ton nom consacré,
Un tyran siege aux Thermopyles
Et sous les chaines les plus viles
Le capitole est encombré.
Vingt siecles de honte et de chaines
Ont pese sur ces lieux divins;
C'est nous qui de Rome et de l'Athenes
Resusciterons les destins.
Francais, soyons seuls notre exemple
Qu'a ma voix on eleve un temple
Ou tous les peuples a jamais
Depouillant des haines sauvages
Viennent de palmes et d'homages
Couronner les heros Français.
Ont pese sur ces lieux divins;
C'est nous qui de Rome et de l'Athenes
Resusciterons les destins.
Francais, soyons seuls notre exemple
Qu'a ma voix on eleve un temple
Ou tous les peuples a jamais
Depouillant des haines sauvages
Viennent de palmes et d'homages
Couronner les heros Français.
Devant ce Pantheon sublime
Brisez ces palais infamans
De nos opprobres et du crime
Honteux et cruels monumens.
Au pied de ses nobles portiques
Plantez ces bonnets Helvetiques
Devenus la terreur des rois;
Et sur l'autel de la patrie
Gravez l'honorable effigie
Des martirs sacrés de nos droits.
Brisez ces palais infamans
De nos opprobres et du crime
Honteux et cruels monumens.
Au pied de ses nobles portiques
Plantez ces bonnets Helvetiques
Devenus la terreur des rois;
Et sur l'autel de la patrie
Gravez l'honorable effigie
Des martirs sacrés de nos droits.
Vous m'entendez, manes augustes
De Thrasibule et de Brutus!
Les Destins trop long tems injustes
Couronnent enfin vos vertus—
Paraissez, ombres adorées
Venez de vos fetes sacrées
Remplir les sublimes concerts
Deja ma lyre transportée
Rivale des chants de Tyrtée
De ses sons etonne les airs.
De Thrasibule et de Brutus!
Les Destins trop long tems injustes
Couronnent enfin vos vertus—
Paraissez, ombres adorées
Venez de vos fetes sacrées
Remplir les sublimes concerts
Deja ma lyre transportée
Rivale des chants de Tyrtée
De ses sons etonne les airs.
C'est par toi que l'hymne commence
Maitre supreme, etre eternal!
Toi qui sis de l'independance
Le premier besoin du mortel.
Long tems l'ignorance et l'audace
Couvrirent ton auguste face,
Du masque impur de leurs forfaits
Un seul combat, une victoire
Venge nos droits et rend ta gloire
Plus eclatante que jamais.
Maitre supreme, etre eternal!
Toi qui sis de l'independance
Le premier besoin du mortel.
Long tems l'ignorance et l'audace
Couvrirent ton auguste face,
Du masque impur de leurs forfaits
Un seul combat, une victoire
Venge nos droits et rend ta gloire
Plus eclatante que jamais.
Mais quels cris viennent de nos fetes
Troubler les chants majestueux?
Quel demon porte sur nos tetes
La nuit, le tonnerre, et les feux?
Verrons nous des hordes sauvages
Inonder encore nos rivages,
Des terrens du Septentrion;
Et pour venger une autre Helene
Tout la force Europeene
Investit une autre Ilion.
Troubler les chants majestueux?
Quel demon porte sur nos tetes
La nuit, le tonnerre, et les feux?
Verrons nous des hordes sauvages
Inonder encore nos rivages,
Des terrens du Septentrion;
Et pour venger une autre Helene
Tout la force Europeene
Investit une autre Ilion.
C'etoient ces bandes homicides
Dont le sang versé tant de fois
De mes ancetres intrepides
Atteste encore les exploits—
Fiers Saxons, Hongres Sanguinaires
Esclaves jadis de mes peres
Craignez leurs braves descendans
Rentrez en vos cavernes sombres
Ou craignez d'avertir leurs ombres
Des revoltes de vos enfans:
Dont le sang versé tant de fois
De mes ancetres intrepides
Atteste encore les exploits—
Fiers Saxons, Hongres Sanguinaires
Esclaves jadis de mes peres
Craignez leurs braves descendans
Rentrez en vos cavernes sombres
Ou craignez d'avertir leurs ombres
Des revoltes de vos enfans:
Une Tisiphone egarée
Teinte encore du sang d'un epoux
Avec le Danube et la Sprée
S'unit et s'arme contre nous
A ces despotes sanguinaires:
Francais, volez sur vos frontieres
Creuser un eternel tombeau;
Ou craignez pour votre patrie,
Et l'opprobe de Warsovie
Et les horreurs d'Ismailow!
Teinte encore du sang d'un epoux
Avec le Danube et la Sprée
S'unit et s'arme contre nous
A ces despotes sanguinaires:
Francais, volez sur vos frontieres
Creuser un eternel tombeau;
Ou craignez pour votre patrie,
Et l'opprobe de Warsovie
Et les horreurs d'Ismailow!
Et vous qu'au sort de ses conquetes
Rome craignit pour ses remparts
Peuples dont les augustes tetes
S'indignant du joug des Cesars,
Scythes aux fers inaccessibles,
Fiers Germains, Teutons invincibles,
Voyez vos laches descendans
D'une main vile et sanguinaire
Sur les bienfaiteurs de la terre
Lancer la foudre des tyrans.
Rome craignit pour ses remparts
Peuples dont les augustes tetes
S'indignant du joug des Cesars,
Scythes aux fers inaccessibles,
Fiers Germains, Teutons invincibles,
Voyez vos laches descendans
D'une main vile et sanguinaire
Sur les bienfaiteurs de la terre
Lancer la foudre des tyrans.
Ainsi, par des faits heroiques
Rome allarmant tous ses voisins
Vit tous les peuples Italiques
Vendre leurs bras a ses Tarquins.
Sur ses frontieres investies
Avec cent hordes ennemies
La France voit vingt Porsennas
Contre tant de liberticides
Nos phalanges tyrannicides
Vomiront mille Scevolas.
Rome allarmant tous ses voisins
Vit tous les peuples Italiques
Vendre leurs bras a ses Tarquins.
Sur ses frontieres investies
Avec cent hordes ennemies
La France voit vingt Porsennas
Contre tant de liberticides
Nos phalanges tyrannicides
Vomiront mille Scevolas.
O Rome! tu leguas ta gloire
Aux peuples faits pour l'imiter!
C'est nous Français que la victoire
Au meme faite veut porter.
O France, O ma chere patrie!
Puisse-je au printems de ma vie
Te voir les despotes soumis
Et que par toi l'univers libre
De l'Amazone jusqu'au Tibre
N'offre que des peuples amis!
Aux peuples faits pour l'imiter!
C'est nous Français que la victoire
Au meme faite veut porter.
O France, O ma chere patrie!
Puisse-je au printems de ma vie
Te voir les despotes soumis
Et que par toi l'univers libre
De l'Amazone jusqu'au Tibre
N'offre que des peuples amis!
ODE[68]
God save the Rights of Man!
Give us a heart to scan
Blessings so dear:
Let them be spread around
Wherever man is found,
And with the welcome sound
Ravish his ear.
Give us a heart to scan
Blessings so dear:
Let them be spread around
Wherever man is found,
And with the welcome sound
Ravish his ear.
Let us with France agree,
And bid the world be free,
While tyrants fall!
Let the rude savage host
Of their vast numbers boast—
Freedom's almighty trust
Laughs at them all!
And bid the world be free,
While tyrants fall!
Let the rude savage host
Of their vast numbers boast—
Freedom's almighty trust
Laughs at them all!
Though hosts of slaves conspire
To quench fair Gallia's fire,
Still shall they fail:
Though traitors round her rise,
Leagu'd with her enemies,
To war each patriot flies,
And will prevail.
To quench fair Gallia's fire,
Still shall they fail:
Though traitors round her rise,
Leagu'd with her enemies,
To war each patriot flies,
And will prevail.
No more is valour's flame
Devoted to a name,
Taught to adore—
Soldiers of Liberty
Disdain to bow the knee,
But teach Equality
To every shore.
Devoted to a name,
Taught to adore—
Soldiers of Liberty
Disdain to bow the knee,
But teach Equality
To every shore.
The world at last will join
To aid thy grand design,
Dear Liberty!
To Russia's frozen lands
The generous flame expands:
On Afric's burning sands
Shall man be free!
To aid thy grand design,
Dear Liberty!
To Russia's frozen lands
The generous flame expands:
On Afric's burning sands
Shall man be free!
In this our western world
Be Freedom's flag unfurl'd
Through all its shores!
May no destructive blast
Our heaven of joy o'ercast,
May Freedom's fabric last
While time endures.
Be Freedom's flag unfurl'd
Through all its shores!
May no destructive blast
Our heaven of joy o'ercast,
May Freedom's fabric last
While time endures.
If e'er her cause require!—
Should tyrants e'er aspire
To aim their stroke,
May no proud despot daunt—
Should he his standard plant,
Freedom will never want
Her hearts of oak!
Should tyrants e'er aspire
To aim their stroke,
May no proud despot daunt—
Should he his standard plant,
Freedom will never want
Her hearts of oak!
[68] This ode was sung at the Civic Feast given to Genet in Philadelphia by the French and Citizens, June 1, 1793. The affair is described in detail in Bache's Aurora of June 4th. After three of the toasts the artillery fired salutes with two twelve pounders, fifteen rounds each. Freneau's ode was sung after the seventh toast, "with great effect." As to the date of composition of the ode I can find no reliable evidence. Conway, in his life of Paine, mentions that it was sung in 1791 at the November Festival of the London Revolution Society. It was published in the edition of 1795, but was not reproduced in 1809.
ON THE DEATH[69]
Of a Republican Printer
[By his Partner and Successor]
Like Sybil's leaves, abroad he spread
His sheets, to awe the aspiring crew:
Stock-jobbers fainted while they read;
Each hidden scheme display'd to view—
Who could such doctrines spread abroad
So long, and not be clapper-claw'd!
His sheets, to awe the aspiring crew:
Stock-jobbers fainted while they read;
Each hidden scheme display'd to view—
Who could such doctrines spread abroad
So long, and not be clapper-claw'd!
Content with slow uncertain gains,
With heart and hand prepar'd he stood
To send his works to distant plains,
And hills beyond the Ohio-flood—
And, since he had no time to lose,
Preach'd whiggish lectures with his news.
With heart and hand prepar'd he stood
To send his works to distant plains,
And hills beyond the Ohio-flood—
And, since he had no time to lose,
Preach'd whiggish lectures with his news.
Now death, with cold unsparing hand,
(At whose decree even Capets fall)
From life's poor glass has shook his sand,
And sent him, fainting, to the wall—
Because he gave you some sad wipes,
O Mammon! seize not thou his types.
(At whose decree even Capets fall)
From life's poor glass has shook his sand,
And sent him, fainting, to the wall—
Because he gave you some sad wipes,
O Mammon! seize not thou his types.
What shall be done, in such a case?—
Shall I, because my partner fails,
Call in his bull-dogs from the chace
To loll their tongues and drop their tails—
No, faith—the title-hunting crew
No longer fly than we pursue.
Shall I, because my partner fails,
Call in his bull-dogs from the chace
To loll their tongues and drop their tails—
No, faith—the title-hunting crew
No longer fly than we pursue.
[69] Published in the National Gazette, July 6, 1793, under the title "Reflections on the Death of a Country Printer." Republished in the edition of 1795, which the text follows, and not inserted in the 1809 edition.
ON THE ANNIVERSARY[70]
Of the Storming of the Bastille, at Paris, July 14th, 1789
The chiefs that bow to Capet's reign,
In mourning, now, their weeds display;
But we, that scorn a monarch's chain,
Combine to celebrate the Day
To Freedom's birth that put the seal,
And laid in dust the proud Bastille.
In mourning, now, their weeds display;
But we, that scorn a monarch's chain,
Combine to celebrate the Day
To Freedom's birth that put the seal,
And laid in dust the proud Bastille.
To Gallia's rich and splendid crown,
This mighty Day gave such a blow
As Time's recording hand shall own
No former age had power to do:
No single gem some Brutus stole,
But instant ruin seiz'd the whole.
This mighty Day gave such a blow
As Time's recording hand shall own
No former age had power to do:
No single gem some Brutus stole,
But instant ruin seiz'd the whole.
Now tyrants rise, once more to bind
In royal chains a nation freed—
Vain hope! for they, to death consign'd,
Shall soon, like perjur'd Louis, bleed:
O'er every king, o'er every queen
Fate hangs the sword, and guillotine.
In royal chains a nation freed—
Vain hope! for they, to death consign'd,
Shall soon, like perjur'd Louis, bleed:
O'er every king, o'er every queen
Fate hangs the sword, and guillotine.
"Plung'd in a gulf of deep distress
France turns her back—(so traitors say)
Kings, priests, and nobles, round her press,
Resolv'd to seize their destin'd prey:
Thus Europe swears (in arms combin'd)
To Poland's doom is France consign'd."
France turns her back—(so traitors say)
Kings, priests, and nobles, round her press,
Resolv'd to seize their destin'd prey:
Thus Europe swears (in arms combin'd)
To Poland's doom is France consign'd."
Yet those, who now are thought so low
From conquests that were basely gain'd,
Shall rise tremendous from the blow
And free Two Worlds, that still are chain'd,
Restrict the Briton to his isle,
And Freedom plant in every soil.
From conquests that were basely gain'd,
Shall rise tremendous from the blow
And free Two Worlds, that still are chain'd,
Restrict the Briton to his isle,
And Freedom plant in every soil.
Ye sons of this degenerate clime,
Haste, arm the barque, expand the sail;
Assist to speed that golden time
When Freedom rules, and monarchs fail;
All left to France—new powers may join,
And help to crush the cause divine.
Haste, arm the barque, expand the sail;
Assist to speed that golden time
When Freedom rules, and monarchs fail;
All left to France—new powers may join,
And help to crush the cause divine.
Ah! while I write, dear France Allied,
My ardent wish I scarce restrain,
To throw these Sybil leaves aside,
And fly to join you on the main:
Unfurl the topsail for the chace
And help to crush the tyrant race!
My ardent wish I scarce restrain,
To throw these Sybil leaves aside,
And fly to join you on the main:
Unfurl the topsail for the chace
And help to crush the tyrant race!
[70] Printed in the National Gazette, July 17, 1793, and republished in the edition of 1795. Omitted from the edition of 1809.
THOUGHTS ON THE EUROPEAN WAR SYSTEM[71]
By H. Salem
The People in Europe are much to be praised,
That in fighting they choose to be passing their days;
If their wars were abolished, there's room to suppose
Our Printers would growl, for the want of New-News.
That in fighting they choose to be passing their days;
If their wars were abolished, there's room to suppose
Our Printers would growl, for the want of New-News.
May our tidings of warfare be ever from thence,
Nor that page be supplied at Columbia's expence!
No kings shall rise here, at the nod of a court,
Ambition, or Pride, with men's lives for to sport.
Nor that page be supplied at Columbia's expence!
No kings shall rise here, at the nod of a court,
Ambition, or Pride, with men's lives for to sport.
In such a display of the taste of the times—
The murder of millions—their quarrels and crimes,
A horrible system of ruin we scan,
A history, truly descriptive of man:
The murder of millions—their quarrels and crimes,
A horrible system of ruin we scan,
A history, truly descriptive of man:
A Being, that Nature designed to be blest—
With abundance around him—yet rarely at rest,
A Being, that lives but a moment in years,
Yet wasting his life in contention and wars;
A Being, sent hither all good to bestow,
Yet filling the world with oppression and woe!
With abundance around him—yet rarely at rest,
A Being, that lives but a moment in years,
Yet wasting his life in contention and wars;
A Being, sent hither all good to bestow,
Yet filling the world with oppression and woe!
But, consider, ye sages, (and pray be resigned)
What ills would attend a reform of mankind—
Were wars at an end, and no nation made thinner,
My neighbour, the gun-smith, would go without dinner;
The Printers, themselves, for employment would fail,
And soldiers, by thousands, be starving in jail.
What ills would attend a reform of mankind—
Were wars at an end, and no nation made thinner,
My neighbour, the gun-smith, would go without dinner;
The Printers, themselves, for employment would fail,
And soldiers, by thousands, be starving in jail.
[71] Published in the 1795 and 1809 editions, the latter of which I have followed.
A MATRIMONIAL DIALOGUE[72]
Humbly Inscribed to My Lord Snake
One Sabbath-day morning said Sampson to Sue
"I have thought and have thought that a Title will do;
Believe me, my dear, it is sweeter that syrup
To taste of a title, as cooked up in Europe;
"Your ladyship" here and "your ladyship" there,
"Sir knight," and "your grace," and "his worship the mayor!"
But here, we are nothing but vulgar all over,
And the wife of a cobbler scarce thinks you above her:
What a country is this, where Madam and Miss
Is the highest address from each vulgar-born cur,
And I—even I—am but Mister and Sir!
"I have thought and have thought that a Title will do;
Believe me, my dear, it is sweeter that syrup
To taste of a title, as cooked up in Europe;
"Your ladyship" here and "your ladyship" there,
"Sir knight," and "your grace," and "his worship the mayor!"
But here, we are nothing but vulgar all over,
And the wife of a cobbler scarce thinks you above her:
What a country is this, where Madam and Miss
Is the highest address from each vulgar-born cur,
And I—even I—am but Mister and Sir!
Your Equal-Right gentry I ne'er could abide
That all are born equal, by Me is denied:
And Barlow and Paine shall preach it in vain;
Look even at brutes, and you'll see it confest
That some are intended to manage the rest;
Yon' dog of the manger, how stately he struts!
You may swear him well-born, from the size of his guts;
Not a better-born whelp ever snapped at his foes,
All he wants is a Glass to be stuck on his Nose:
And then, my dear Sue, between me and you,
He would look like the gemman whose name I forget,
Who lives in a castle and never pays debt."
That all are born equal, by Me is denied:
And Barlow and Paine shall preach it in vain;
Look even at brutes, and you'll see it confest
That some are intended to manage the rest;
Yon' dog of the manger, how stately he struts!
You may swear him well-born, from the size of his guts;
Not a better-born whelp ever snapped at his foes,
All he wants is a Glass to be stuck on his Nose:
And then, my dear Sue, between me and you,
He would look like the gemman whose name I forget,
Who lives in a castle and never pays debt."
"My dear (answered Susan) 'tis said, in reproach,
That you climb like a bear when you get in a coach:
Now, your nobles that spring from the nobles of old,
Your earls, and your knights, and your barons, so bold,
From Nature inherit so handsome an air
They are noblemen born, at first glance we may swear:
But you, that have cobbled, and I, that have spun,
'Tis wrong for our noddles on Titles to run:
Moreover, you know, that to make a fine show,
Your people of note, of arms get a coat;
A boot or a shoe would but sneakingly do,
And would certainly prove our nobility New."
That you climb like a bear when you get in a coach:
Now, your nobles that spring from the nobles of old,
Your earls, and your knights, and your barons, so bold,
From Nature inherit so handsome an air
They are noblemen born, at first glance we may swear:
But you, that have cobbled, and I, that have spun,
'Tis wrong for our noddles on Titles to run:
Moreover, you know, that to make a fine show,
Your people of note, of arms get a coat;
A boot or a shoe would but sneakingly do,
And would certainly prove our nobility New."
"No matter (said Sampson) a coach shall be bought:
Though the low-born may chatter, I care not a groat;
Around it a group of devices shall shine,
And mottoes, and emblems—to prove it is mine;
Fair liberty's Cap, and a Star, and a Strap;
A Dagger, that somewhat resembles an Awl,
A pumpkin-faced Goddess supporting a Stall:
All these shall be there—how people will stare!
And Envy herself, that our Title would blast
May smile at the motto,—the First shall be Last."[A]
Though the low-born may chatter, I care not a groat;
Around it a group of devices shall shine,
And mottoes, and emblems—to prove it is mine;
Fair liberty's Cap, and a Star, and a Strap;
A Dagger, that somewhat resembles an Awl,
A pumpkin-faced Goddess supporting a Stall:
All these shall be there—how people will stare!
And Envy herself, that our Title would blast
May smile at the motto,—the First shall be Last."[A]
[A] Qui primus fuit nunc ultimus.—Motto on a certain coach.—Freneau's note.
[72] First published in the National Gazette, August 11, 1792, under the title "A Curious Dialogue." In this earliest version it is noted that the piece was "occasioned by emblematic devices on a certain travelling coach." Text from the 1809 edition.
ON THE MEMORABLE[73]
Naval Engagement between the Republican Frigate L'Ambuscade
Captain Bompard, and the British Royal Frigate Boston, Captain
Courtney, off the coast of New-Jersey.—1792
Resolved for a chace,
All Frenchmen to face,
Bold Boston from Halifax sailed,
With a full flowing sheet,
The pride of the fleet,
Not a vessel she saw, but she hailed;
With Courtney, commander, who never did fear,
Nor returned from a fight with a "flea in his ear."
All Frenchmen to face,
Bold Boston from Halifax sailed,
With a full flowing sheet,
The pride of the fleet,
Not a vessel she saw, but she hailed;
With Courtney, commander, who never did fear,
Nor returned from a fight with a "flea in his ear."
As they stered for the Hook,
Each swore by his book,
"No prayers should their vengeance retard;
"They would plunder and burn,
"They would never return
"Unattended by Captain Bompard!
"No Gaul can resist us, when once we arouse,
"We'll drown the monsieurs in the wash of our bows."
Each swore by his book,
"No prayers should their vengeance retard;
"They would plunder and burn,
"They would never return
"Unattended by Captain Bompard!
"No Gaul can resist us, when once we arouse,
"We'll drown the monsieurs in the wash of our bows."
A sail now appeared,
When toward her they steered,
Each crown'd with his Liberty-Cap;
Under colours of France did they boldly advance,
And a small privateer did entrap—
The time may have been when their nation was brave,
But now, their best play is to cheat and deceive.
When toward her they steered,
Each crown'd with his Liberty-Cap;
Under colours of France did they boldly advance,
And a small privateer did entrap—
The time may have been when their nation was brave,
But now, their best play is to cheat and deceive.
Arrived at the spot
Where they meant to dispute,
Thus Courtney sent word, in a heat:
"Since fighting's our trade,
"Their bold Ambuscade
"Must be sunk, or compelled to retreat:
"Tell Captain Bompard, if his stomach's for war,
"To advance from his port, and engage a bold tar."
Where they meant to dispute,
Thus Courtney sent word, in a heat:
"Since fighting's our trade,
"Their bold Ambuscade
"Must be sunk, or compelled to retreat:
"Tell Captain Bompard, if his stomach's for war,
"To advance from his port, and engage a bold tar."
Brave Captain Bompard
When this challenge he heard,
Though his sails were unbent from the yards,
His topmasts struck down,
And his men half in town;
Yet sent back his humble regards—
The challenge accepted; all hands warned on board,
Bent, their sails, swore revenge, and the frigate unmoored.
When this challenge he heard,
Though his sails were unbent from the yards,
His topmasts struck down,
And his men half in town;
Yet sent back his humble regards—
The challenge accepted; all hands warned on board,
Bent, their sails, swore revenge, and the frigate unmoored.
The Boston, at sea,
Being under their lee,
For windward manœuvred in vain;
'Till night coming on,
Both laid by 'till dawn,
Then met on the watery plain,
The wind at north-east, and a beautiful day,
And the hearts of the Frenchmen in trim for the fray.
Being under their lee,
For windward manœuvred in vain;
'Till night coming on,
Both laid by 'till dawn,
Then met on the watery plain,
The wind at north-east, and a beautiful day,
And the hearts of the Frenchmen in trim for the fray.
So, to it they went,
With determined intent
The fate of the day to decide
By the virtues of powder;
(No argument louder
Was e'er to a subject applied)
A Gaul with a Briton in battle contends,
Let them stand to their guns, and we'll see how it ends.
With determined intent
The fate of the day to decide
By the virtues of powder;
(No argument louder
Was e'er to a subject applied)
A Gaul with a Briton in battle contends,
Let them stand to their guns, and we'll see how it ends.
As the Frenchman sailed past,
Boston gave him a blast,
Glass bottles, case knives, and old nails,
A score of round shot,
And the devil knows what,
To cripple his masts and his sails.
The Boston supposed it the best of her play
To prevent him from chacing—if she ran away.
Boston gave him a blast,
Glass bottles, case knives, and old nails,
A score of round shot,
And the devil knows what,
To cripple his masts and his sails.
The Boston supposed it the best of her play
To prevent him from chacing—if she ran away.
The Frenchman most cool,
(No hot-headed fool,)
Returned the broadside in a trice;
So hot was the blast,
He disabled one mast,
And gave them some rigging to splice,
Some holes for to plug, where the bullets had gone,
Some yards to replace, and some heads to put on.
(No hot-headed fool,)
Returned the broadside in a trice;
So hot was the blast,
He disabled one mast,
And gave them some rigging to splice,
Some holes for to plug, where the bullets had gone,
Some yards to replace, and some heads to put on.
Three glasses, and more,
Their cannons did roar,
Shot flying in horrible squads;
'Midst torrents of smoke,
The Republican spoke,
And frightened the Anglican gods!
Their frigate so mauled, they no longer defend her,
And, Courtney shot down—they bawled out to surrender!
Their cannons did roar,
Shot flying in horrible squads;
'Midst torrents of smoke,
The Republican spoke,
And frightened the Anglican gods!
Their frigate so mauled, they no longer defend her,
And, Courtney shot down—they bawled out to surrender!
"O la! what a blunder
"To provoke this French thunder!
"We think with the devil he deals—
"But since we dislike
"To surrender and strike,
"Let us try the success of our heels:
"We may save the king's frigate by running away,
"The Frenchman will have us—all hands—if we stay!"
"To provoke this French thunder!
"We think with the devil he deals—
"But since we dislike
"To surrender and strike,
"Let us try the success of our heels:
"We may save the king's frigate by running away,
"The Frenchman will have us—all hands—if we stay!"
So squaring their yards,
On all Captain Bompard's,
A volley of curses they shed—
Having got their Discharge,
They bore away large,
While the Frenchman pursued, as they fled.
But vain was his haste—while his sails he repaired,
He ended the fray in a chace—
The Gaul got the best of the fight, 'tis declared;
The Briton—the best of the race!
On all Captain Bompard's,
A volley of curses they shed—
Having got their Discharge,
They bore away large,
While the Frenchman pursued, as they fled.
But vain was his haste—while his sails he repaired,
He ended the fray in a chace—
The Gaul got the best of the fight, 'tis declared;
The Briton—the best of the race!
[73] Published in the National Gazette, Aug. 17, 1793. The frigate L'Ambuscade, which had borne Citizen Genet from France to Charleston, where he arrived April 8, 1792, and which was soon after stationed at Philadelphia, caused much trouble to the federal government by making American ports her basis for operations upon English shipping. She captured several British ships, among them the Grange and the Little Sarah. Text from the 1809 edition.
TO SHYLOCK AP-SHENKIN[74]
[In Reply to Big Looks and Menaces]
Because some pumpkin-shells and lobster claws,
Thrown o'er his garden walls by Crab-tree's duke,
Have chanc'd to light within your meagre jaws,
(A dose, at which all honest men would puke:)
Thrown o'er his garden walls by Crab-tree's duke,
Have chanc'd to light within your meagre jaws,
(A dose, at which all honest men would puke:)
Because some treasury-luncheons you have gnaw'd,
Like rats, that prey upon the public store:
Must you, for that, your crude stuff belch abroad,
And vomit lies on all that pass your door!
Like rats, that prey upon the public store:
Must you, for that, your crude stuff belch abroad,
And vomit lies on all that pass your door!
To knavery's tribe my verse still fatal found,
Alike to kings and coblers gives their due:
Spruce tho' you be, your heels may drum the ground,
And make rare pass-time for the sportive crew.
Alike to kings and coblers gives their due:
Spruce tho' you be, your heels may drum the ground,
And make rare pass-time for the sportive crew.
Why all these hints of menace, dark and sad,
What is my crime, that thus Ap-Shenkin raves?
No secret-service-money have I had
For waging two years' war with fools and knaves.
What is my crime, that thus Ap-Shenkin raves?
No secret-service-money have I had
For waging two years' war with fools and knaves.
Abus'd at court, unwelcome to the Great—
This page of mine no well-born aspect wears:
On honest yeomen I repose its fate,
Clodhopper's dollar is as good as theirs.
This page of mine no well-born aspect wears:
On honest yeomen I repose its fate,
Clodhopper's dollar is as good as theirs.
Why wouldst thou then with ruffian hand destroy
A wight, that wastes his ink in Freedom's cause:
Who, to the last, his arrows will employ
To publish Freedom's rights, and guard her laws!
A wight, that wastes his ink in Freedom's cause:
Who, to the last, his arrows will employ
To publish Freedom's rights, and guard her laws!
O thou! that hast a heart so flinty hard
Thus oft, too oft, a poet to rebuke,
From those that rhyme you ne'er shall meet regard;
Of Crab-tree's dutchy—you shall be no Duke.
Thus oft, too oft, a poet to rebuke,
From those that rhyme you ne'er shall meet regard;
Of Crab-tree's dutchy—you shall be no Duke.