The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Poems of Philip Freneau (Volume III).

Thou, born to sip the lake or spring,
Or quaff the waters of the stream,
Why hither come on vagrant wing?—
Does Bacchus tempting seem—
Did he, for you, this glass prepare?—
Will I admit you to a share?

Did storms harass or foes perplex,
Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay—
Did wars distress, or labours vex,
Or did you miss your way?—
A better seat you could not take
Than on the margin of this lake.

Welcome!—I hail you to my glass:
All welcome, here, you find;
Here, let the cloud of trouble pass,
Here, be all care resigned.—
This fluid never fails to please,
And drown the griefs of men or bees.

What forced you here, we cannot know,
And you will scarcely tell—
But cheery we would have you go
And bid a glad farewell:
On lighter wings we bid you fly,
Your dart will now all foes defy.

Yet take not, oh! too deep a drink,
And in this ocean die;
Here bigger bees than you might sink,
Even bees full six feet high.
Like Pharoah, then, you would be said
To perish in a sea of red.

Do as you please, your will is mine;
Enjoy it without fear—
And your grave will be this glass of wine,
Your epitaph—a tear—
Go, take your seat in Charon's boat,
We'll tell the hive, you died afloat.

ON THE FALL OF AN ANCIENT OAK TREE [197]

While onward moves each circling year
Thy mandates, Nature, all obey,
As with this moving, changeful sphere
The seasons change and never stay;
Old Oak, I to your place return,
Where late you stood, and viewing mourn,

For the great loss my heart sustained
When you declined, long will I sigh,
That hour when you no more remained
To cheer the summer, passing by;
No longer blessed my eager view,
But like some dying friend withdrew.

Though frequent, by that nipping frost,
The blast which cold November sends,
I saw your leafy honours lost;
Hope, for such losses, made amends:
The spring again beheld them grow,
And we were pleased, and so was you.

Since I your fatal fall survive,
Remembrance long shall hold you dear,
And bid some young successor live;
By sad Amyntor planted here;
Its buds to swell, its leaves to spread,
And shade the place when he is dead.

A prince among your towering race,
What more your vanished form endears
Is that your presence in this place
Had been at least one hundred years;
And men that long in dust have laid,
When boys, beneath your shadow played.

You had your time to feel the sun,
To wanton in his cheering ray;—
That time is past, your race is run,
And we have nothing more to say,
Than, may your oaken spirit go
Among Elysian oaks below.

STANZAS ON THE DECEASE OF THOMAS PAINE

Princes and kings decay and die
And, instant, rise again:
But this is not the case, trust me,
With men like Thomas Paine.

In vain the democratic host
His equal would attain:
For years to come they will not boast
A second Thomas Paine.

Though many may his name assume;
Assumption is in vain;
For every man has not his plume—
Whose name is Thomas Paine.

Though heaven bestow'd on all its sons
Their proper share of brain,
It gives to few, ye simple ones,
The mind of Thomas Paine.

To tyrants and the tyrant crew,
Indeed, he was the bane;
He writ, and gave them all their due,
And signed it,—Thomas Paine.

Oh! how we loved to see him write
And curb the race of Cain!
They hope and wish that Thomas P——
May never rise again.

What idle hopes!—yes—such a man
May yet appear again.—
When they are dead, they die for aye:
—Not so with Thomas Paine.

PART VI

THE WAR OF 1812

1809—1815

ON THE SYMPTOMS OF HOSTILITIES.[199]

But will they once more be engaged in a war,
Be fated to discord again?
A peace to the nations will nothing restore
But the challenge of death and a deluge of gore!
A modern crusade
Is undoubtedly made:—
With treaties rejected, and treaties renew'd,
A permanent treaty they never conclude.

And who is to blame? we submissively ask—
Did nature predestine this curse to mankind;
Or is it the cruel detestable task
That tyrants impose, with their minions combined?
We are anxious to know
The source of our wo
In a world where the blessings of nature abound
Why discord, the bane of her blessings, is found.

Must our freedom, our labors, our commerce, our all
Be tamely surrender'd, to tyrants convey'd;
Must the flag of the country disgracefully fall,
To be torn by the dogs of the slaughtering trade?
Does no one reply,
With a tear in his eye,
It must be the case, if we do not resent
What monarchs have menaced and tyranny meant.

Not a ship, or a barque, that departs from the shore
But her cargo is plunder'd, her sailors are slain,
Or arriving in England, we see them no more,
Condemn'd in the court of deceit and chicane,
Where their wicked decrees
And their costs and their fees
Have ruin'd the merchant—mechanics half fed,
And sailors uncaptured are begging their bread.

To reason with tyrants is surely absurd;
To argue with them is to preach to the deaf:
They argue alone by the length of the sword;
Their honor the same as the word of a thief.
In such to confide
When a cause they decide,
Is the wolf and the lamb (if the tale we recall)
Where the weakest and meekest must go to the wall.

But an englishman's throat is expanded so wide
Not the ocean itself is a mess for his maw:
And missions there are, and a scoundrel employ'd
To divide, and to rule by the florentine law [A]:
New-England must join
In the knavish design,
As some have predicted to those who believe 'em;
—The event is at hand—may the devil deceive 'em.

With an empire at sea and an empire on land,
And the system projected, monopolization,
The western republic no longer will stand
Than answers the views of a desperate nation,
Who have shackled the east,
Made the native a beast,
And are scheming to give us—the matter is clear—
A man of their own for the president's chair,

Then arouse from your slumbers, ye men of the west,
Already the indian his hatchet displays;
Ohio's frontier, and Kentucky distrest;
The village, and cottage, are both in a blaze:—
Then indian and english
No longer distinguish,
They bribe, and are bribed, for a warfare accurst;
Of the two, we can hardly describe which is worst.

In the court of king Hog was a council convened,
In which they agreed we are growing too strong:
They snuffled and grunted, and loudly complained
The sceptre would fall, if they suffer'd it long;
To cut up our trade
Was an object, they said,
The nearest and dearest of all in their view;
Not a fish should be caught if old England said, No!

Then arouse from your slumbers, ye men of the west,
A war is approaching, there's room to suppose;
The rust on your guns we abhor and detest,
So brighten them up—we are coming to blows
With the queen of the ocean
The prop of devotion,
The bulwark of all that is truly divine;
A motto she often has put on her sign.

LINES ADDRESSED TO MR. JEFFERSON,

At length the year, which marks his course, expires,
And Jefferson from public life retires;
That year, the close of years, which own his claim,
And give him all his honors, all his fame.
Far in the heaven of fame I see him fly,
Safe in the realms of immortality:
On Equal Worth his honor'd mantle falls,
Him, whom Columbia her true patriot calls;
Him, whom we saw her codes of freedom plan,
To none inferior in the ranks of man.

When to the helm of state your country call'd
No danger awed you and no fear appall'd;
Each bosom, faithful to its country's claim,
Hail'd Jefferson, that long applauded name;
All, then, was dark, and wrongs on wrongs accrued
Our treasures wasted, and our strength subdued;
What seven long years of war and blood had gain'd,
Was lost, abandon'd, squander'd, or restrain'd:
Britania's tools had schemed their easier way,
To conquer, ruin, pillage, or betray;
Domestic traitors, with exotic, join'd,
To shackle this last refuge of mankind;
Wars were provoked, and France was made our foe,
That George's race might govern all below,
O'er this wide world, uncheck'd, unbounded, reign,
Seize every clime, and subjugate the main.

All this was seen—and rising in your might,
By genius aided, you reclaim'd our right,
That Right, which conquest, arms, and valor gave
To this young nation—not to live a slave.

And what but toil has your long service seen?
Dark tempests gathering over a sky serene—
For wearied years no mines of wealth can pay,
No fame, nor all the plaudits of that day,
Which now returns you to your rural shade,
The sage's heaven, for contemplation made,
Who, like the Roman, in their country's cause
Exert their valor, or enforce its laws,
And late retiring, every wrong redress'd,
Give their last days to solitude and rest.

This great reward a generous nation yields—
Regret attends you to your native fields;
Their grateful thanks for every service done,
And hope, your thorny race of care is run.

From your sage counsels what effects arise!
The vengeful briton from our waters flies;
His thundering ships no more our coasts assail,
But seize the advantage of the western gale.
Though bold and bloody, warlike, proud, and fierce,
They shun your vengeance for a Murdered Pearce,
And starved, dejected, on some meagre shore,
Sigh for the country they shall rule no more.

Long in the councils of your native land,
We saw you cool, unchanged, intrepid, stand:
When the firm Congress, still too firm to yield,
Stay'd masters of the long contested field,
Your wisdom aided, what their counsels framed—
By you the murdering savages were tamed—
That Independence we had sworn to gain,
By you asserted (nor Declared in vain)
We seized, triumphant, from a tyrant's throne,
And Britain totter'd when the work was done.

You, when an angry faction vex'd the age,
Rose to your place at once, and check'd their rage;
The envenom'd shafts of malice you defied,
And turn'd all projects of revolt aside:—
We saw you libell'd by the worst of men,
While hell's red lamp hung quivering o'er his pen,
And fiends congenial every effort try
To blast that merit which shall never die—

These had their hour, and traitors wing'd their flight,
To aid the screechings of distracted night.

Vain were their hopes—the poison'd darts of hell,
Glanced from your flinty shield, and harmless fell.

All this you bore—beyond it all you rose,
Nor ask'd despotic laws to crush your foes.
Mild was your language, temperate though severe;
And not less potent than Ithuriel's spear
To touch the infernals in their loathsome guise,
Confound their slanders and detect their lies.

All this you braved—and, now, what task remains,
But silent walks on solitary plains:
To bid the vast luxuriant harvest grow,
The slave be happy and secured from wo—
To illume the statesmen of the times to come
With the bold spirit of primeval Rome;
To taste the joys your long tried service brings,
And look, with pity, on the cares of kings:—
Whether, with Newton, you the heavens explore,
And trace through nature the creating power,
Or, if with mortals you reform the age,
(Alike, in all, the patriot and the sage)
May peace and soft repose, attend you, still,
In the lone vale, or on the cloud-capp'd hill,
While smiling plenty decks the abundant plain,
And hails Astrea to the world again.

ON THE PROSPECT OF WAR,

Americans! rouse at the rumors of war,
Which now are distracting the hearts of the nation,
A flame blowing up, to extinguish your power
And leave you, a prey, to another invasion;
A second invasion, as bad as the old,
When, northward or southward, wherever they stroll'd
With heart and with hand, a murdering band
Of vagrants, came over to ravage your land:
For liberty's guard, you are ever array'd
And know how to fight, in the sun or the shade.

Remember the cause that induced you to rise
When oppression advanced, with her king-making host,
Twas the cause of our nation that bade you despise
And drive to destruction all England's proud host,
Who, with musket and sword, under men they adored,
Rush'd into each village and rifled each shade
To murder the planter, and ravish the maid.

What though you arose, and resolved to be free,
With spirit to humble all Europe combining,
You had soon bit the dust or been drown'd in the sea
By the slaves of a king, and a court all designing,
Had not liberty swore she would cover your shore,
Her colors display'd, and with vengeance repaid
The myriads that came from a blood-thirsty isle
Our groves, and our streams, and our beds to defile.

Our churches defaced, by a merciless foe,
Or made the poor captive's distress'd habitation:
The prison-ship, fraught with its cargo of wo,
Where thousands were starved, without shame or compassion;
All these, and yet more, were the evils we bore
From a motherly dame, Great Britain her name,
From a nation, that once we accounted our friends,
Who would shackle the country, that freedom defends.

All true-born americans! join, as of old;
For freedom's defence, be your firm resolution;
Whoever invades you by force, or with gold,
Alike is a foe to a free constitution:
Unite to pull down that imposture, a crown;
Oppose it at least, tis a mark of the beast:
All tyranny's engines again are at work
To make you as poor and as base as the turk.

Abandon'd to all the intrigues of a knave,
Abounding with sharpers of every description,
They would plunder our towns, and prohibit the wave;
Their treaties of commerce are all a deception:
Not a ship do we send but they rob without end;
With their law of blockade they have ruin'd our trade;
The shops of mechanics at midnight they burn
That home manufactures may cease to be worn.

Look round the wide world; and observe with a sigh,
Wherever a monarch presides o'er a nation,
Sweet nature appears with a tear in her eye,
And the mantle of sorrow enshrouds the creation.
The ocean is chain'd, all freedom restrain'd,
The soil is resign'd to the pests of mankind,
To royals and nobles, the guard of the throne,
And the slaves they have bribed, to make freedom their own.

All hail to the nation, immortal and great,
Who, rising on bold philosophical pinion,
Reforms, and enlightens, and strengthens the state,
Not places her weal in excess of dominion.
What reason can do she intends to pursue;
And true to the plan, on which she began,
Will the volume unfold she to freedom assign'd,
Till tyrants are chased from the sight of mankind.

Since the day we declared, they were masters no more,
The day we arose from the colony station,
Has England attack'd us, by sea and by shore,
In war by the sword, as in peace by vexation;
Impressment they claim'd, till our seamen, ashamed,
Grew sick of our flag, that against the old hag
Of Britain, no longer their freedom protected
But left them, like slaves, to be lash'd and corrected.

Old Rome, that in darkness so long had been lost,
Since on her republic bright freedom was shining:
The warmth of her spirit congeal'd in a frost,
Under tyrants and popes, many centuries, pining:
At the close of the page, who can bridle his rage
To see her return to the fetters she broke,
When tyranny sicken'd, and liberty spoke:
What an image of clay have they thrown in her way!
The king and the priest on her carcass will feast;
When these are allied, the world they divide;
The nations they plunder, the nations they kill,
And bend all the force of the mind to their will:
Not the spirit to rise, or the strength to command,
But friars and monks—and the scum of the land.—
No more of your Nero's or Caesars complain,
Leave Brutus and Cato, and take them again.

But reason, that sun, whose unquenchable ray
Progressive, has dawn'd on the night of the mind,
From the source of all good, may hereafter display,
And man a more dignified character find:
As far as example and vigor can go,
As long as forbearance and patience will do,
The western republic will carry it through—:
May order and peace through the nations increase,
And murder, and plunder, and tyranny cease:
May justice and honor through empires prevail
And all the bad passions weigh light in the scale,
Till man is the being that nature at first
Placed here, to be happy, and not to be cursed.

Approaching, at hand, in the progress of time,
An era will come, to begin its career,
When freedom reviving, and man in his prime,
His rights will assert, and maintain without fear
Of that cunning, bold race, who our species disgrace;
On the blood of a nation who make calculation
To rise into splendor and fill a high station;
Nay, climb to the throne on a villanous plan
To plunder his substance, and trample on man.

ON THE BRITISH COMMERCIAL DEPREDATIONS.

As gallant ships as ever ocean stemm'd—
A thousand ships are captured, and condemn'd!
Ships from our shores, with native cargoes fraught,
And sailing to the very shores they ought:
And yet at peace!—the wrong is past all bearing;
The very comets [A] are the war declaring:
Six thousand seamen groan beneath your power,
For years immured, and prisoners to this hour:

Then England come! a sense of wrong requires
To meet with thirteen stars your thousand fires;
On your own seas the conflict to sustain,
Or drown them, with your commerce in the main!

True do we speak, and who can well deny,
That England claims all water, land, and sky
Her power expands—extends through every zone,
Nor bears a rival—but must rule alone.
To enforce her claims, a thousand sails unfurl'd
Pronounce their home the cock-pit of the world;
The modern Tyre, whose fiends and lions prowl,
A tyrant navy, which in time must howl.[B]
Heaven send the time—the world obeys her nod:
Her nods, we hope, the sleep of death forbode;
Some mighty change, when plunder'd thrones agree,
And plunder'd countries, to make commerce free.

TO AMERICA:

When Alfred held the english throne,
And England's self was little known,
Yet, when invaded by the Dane,
He early faced them on the main.

That scythian race who ruled the sea—
He soon pronounced their destiny;
To leave his isle, to sheath the sword;
Disgraced, defeated, and abhorr'd.

So now, these worse than danes appear
To do their deeds of havoc here—
For all they did in seasons past,
The day of grief must come at last.

For plains, yet white with human bones,
For murders past, no prayer atones;
For ruin spread in former years,
Not even the mitred clergy's tears.

Let us but act the part we ought,
And tyrants will be dearly taught
That they, who aid a country's claim,
Fight not for ribands, or a name.

Still hostile to the rights of man,
A deadly war, the english plan;
The gothic system will prevail,
To ruin where they can assail;
A war, where seas of blood may flow
To ornament their scenes of wo.

O Washington! thy honored dust
The foe will not profane, we trust;
Or if they do, will vengeance sleep,
Or fail to drive them to the deep?

For shores well known, they shape their course,
An english fleet, with all its force;
A british fleet may soon appear
To ravage all we counted dear.

Advancing swift, by beat of drum,
Half England's dregs, or Scotland's scum;
With these unite the indian tribes,
Now hostile made by force of bribes—
And they will dare the eagle's frown,
Though half his force can put them down.

The envenom'd foe, inured to war,
May scatter vengeance wide and far,
Unless, to assert our country's right,
All hearts resolve, all hands unite.

Let party feuds be hush'd, forgot,
Past discord from the memory blot,
And Britain, from our coasts repell'd,
Shall rue the day she took the field.

The dart, to assail the english power,
In time must reach that hostile shore,
And red with vengeance, on its way,
Their naval power in ruins lay.

The western world a blow must deal
To let them know, and make them feel
That much too long a plundering hag
Has mortified all Europe's flag.

By wars and death while despots thrive
What pity one remains alive!
By them the seeds of war are sown,
By them, our lives are not our own.

Their deadly hate to freedom's growth,
To reason's light—that spurns them both,
That deadly hate predicts our doom,
And digs the pit for freedom's tomb.

Be not deceived—the league of kings,
Confederate crowns, this warfare brings;
These send their hosts to forge our chains,
Harass our shores, renew their reigns.

At Pilnitz they who join'd to swear
And wage with France wide wasting war
Till freedom should her claims recall,
And Louis reign, or myriads fall;

At Pilnitz, with decided aim,
They form'd their schemes to blast our fame:
And, faithful now to what they swore,
Would, kings dismiss'd and thrones, restore.

Ye hearts of steel, observe these hosts!
The odious train my soul disgusts;
They rise upon the vultures wings
To prop the tottering cause of kings.

Observe them well—through every grade
They exercise the robber's trade;
They sail upon a plundering scheme,
They march, to give you sword and flame.

And burn you must, if, slow to act,
You wait to see your cities sack'd,
Yourselves enslav'd, and all things lose
That labor earns or wealth bestows;
If slow to send your heated balls,
Indignant, through their wooden walls.

O may you see their squadrons yield
Their legions sink on every field;
And new Burgoynes, to slaughter bred,
Burgoynes, once more, in fetters led.

And may you see all foreign power
Forever banish'd from your shore,
And see disheartened tyrants mourn,
And Britain to her hell return.

THE SUTTLER AND THE SOLDIER.

"Who would refuse this cheering draught?"
The suttler said, and saying, laugh'd
The soldier, then, the liquor quaff'd,
And felt right bold.

The suttler soon foresaw the rest,
And thus the son of Mars address'd,
"This brandy is the very best
Of all I've sold.

"The journey you are bound to go,
In former times, I travell'd too,
When Arnold march'd, with lord knows who,
To seize Quebec.

"And if he fail'd in that assault,
It was not, sure, the brandy's fault;
The best, at times, may make a halt,
Ay, break his neck.

"Now hear a dotard of your trade:—
Of old I lived by flint and blade,
But, disregarded, and decay'd,
I'm nothing now.

"This leaky shed is not my own,
And here I stay, unheard, unknown,
Poor Darby, and without a Joan,
Nor horse, nor cow.

"But mend your draught—I have more to say:—
You now are young, and under pay;
Be warn'd by me, whose hairs are grey;
The time will come

"When you may find this trade of arms,
The march, that now your bosom warms,
Has little but illusive charms,
Mere beat of drum:

"But yet, in such a cause as this
I deem your ardor not amiss—
I know you are no hireling swiss;
Your country calls:

"And when she calls, you must obey;
For wages not—fig for the pay—
Tis honor calls you out this day
To face the balls.

"You have to go where George Provost
Has many a soldier made a ghost,
Where indians many a prisoner roast
Or seize their scalps.

"And what of that?—mere fate of war—
God grant you may have better fare—
Go, fight beneath a kinder star,
And scourge the whelps.

"They scarce are men—mere flesh and blood—
Mere ouran-outangs of the wood,
Forever on the scent of blood,
And deers at heart.

"When men, like you, approach them nigh,
They make a yell, retreat, and fly:
On equal ground, they never try
The warrior's art.

"Then dare their strength—at honor's call
Explore the road to Montreal,
To dine, perchance, in Drummond's hall,
Perhaps in jail.

"Of all uncertain things below
The chance of war is doubly so;
For this I saw, and this I know;—
Yet, do not fail.

"To live, for months on scanty fare,
To sleep, by night in open air,
To fight, and every danger share;
All these await.

"But bear them all!—wherever led,
And live contented, though half fed:—
A couch of straw, and canvas shed
Shall be your fate!

"And mind the mark—remember me—
When full of fight, and full of glee,
Be of your brandy not too free:—
Ay, mind the mark!

"Who drinks too much, the day he fights,
Calls danger near, and death invites
To dim, or darken all his lights;—
His noon is dark!

"It is a friend in a stormy day;
Then brandy drives all care away,
But, over done, it will betray
The wisest sage.

"Then strictly guard the full canteen—
Its power enlivens every scene,
And helps to keep the soul serene
When battles rage.

"This potent stuff, if managed well,
(And strong it is, the sort I sell)
Can every doubt and fear expel,
When prudence guides.

"Though mountains rise, or rocks intrude,
This nectar smooths the roughest road,
And cheers the heart, and warms the blood
Through all its tides.

"Then drink you this, and more," (he said,
And held the pitcher to his head)
"This drink of gods, when Ganymede
Hands round the bowl,

"Will nerve the arm, and bid you go
Where prowls the vagrant Eskimau,[A]
Where torpid winter tops with snow
The darkened pole,—"

THE WAR OF 1812

1809—1815

THE WAR OF 1812

1809—1815

AND AMERICAN WRONGS.