[45] The text is from the edition of 1809. The poem, given originally as the graduating address of Freneau and Brackenridge at Princeton, Brackenridge delivering it, was first published In 1772 at Philadelphia, by Joseph Crukshank, for R. Aitken, bookseller. This pamphlet edition is the only one extant of the original poem. Freneau reprinted his own part, with many modifications and additions, in the first edition of his poems, 1786, explaining it with the following note: "This poem is a little altered from the original (published in Philadelphia in 1772), such parts being only inserted here as were written by the author of this volume. A few more modern lines towards the conclusion are incorporated with the rest, being a supposed prophetical anticipation of subsequent events." The text of the edition of 1772, which is now exceedingly rare, is as follows:

A POEM ON THE RISING GLORY OF AMERICA

Being an Exercise delivered at the Public Commencement at Nassau-Hall, September 25, 1771.

Argument

The subject proposed.—The discovery of America by Columbus and others.—A philosophical enquiry into the origin of the savages of America.—Their uncultivated state.—The first planters of America.—The cause of their migration from Europe.—The difficulties they encountered from the resentment of the natives and other circumstances.—The French war in North America.—The most distinguished heroes who fell in it; Wolf, Braddock, &c.—General Johnson,—his character.—North America, why superior to South.—On Agriculture.—On commerce.—On science.—Whitefield,—his character.—The present glory of America.—A prospect of its future glory, in science,—in liberty,—and the gospel.—The conclusion of the whole.

Leander
No more of Memphis and her mighty kings.
 Or Alexandria, where the Ptolomies
 Taught golden commerce to unfurl her sails,
 And bid fair science smile: No more of Greece
 Where learning next her early visit paid,
 And spread her glories to illume the world;
 No more of Athens, where she flourished,
 And saw her sons of mighty genius rise,
 Smooth flowing Plato, Socrates and him
 Who with resistless eloquence reviv'd
 The spirit of Liberty, and shook the thrones
 Of Macedon and Persia's haughty king.
 No more of Rome, enlighten'd by her beams,
 Fresh kindling there the fire of eloquence,
 And poesy divine; imperial Rome!
 Whose wide dominion reach'd o'er half the globe;
 Whose eagle flew o'er Ganges to the East,
 And in the West far to the British isles.
 No more of Britain and her kings renown'd,
 Edward's and Henry's thunderbolts of war;
 Her chiefs victorious o'er the Gallic foe;
 Illustrious senators, immortal bards,
 And wise philosophers, of these no more.
 A Theme more new, tho' not less noble, claims
 Our ev'ry thought on this auspicious day;
 The rising glory of this western world.
 Where now the dawning light of science spreads
 Her orient ray, and wakes the muse's song;
 Where freedom holds her sacred standard high,
 And commerce rolls her golden tides profuse
 Of elegance and ev'ry joy of life.
Acasto
Since then, Leander, you attempt a strain
 So new, so noble and so full of fame;
 And since a friendly concourse centers here,
 America's own sons, begin O muse!
 Now thro' the veil of ancient days review
 The period fam'd when first Columbus touch'd
 The shore so long unknown, thro' various toils,
 Famine and death, the hero made his way,
 Thro' oceans bellowing with eternal storms.
 But why, thus hap'ly found, should we resume
 The tale of Cortez, furious chief, ordain'd
 With Indian blood to dye the sands, and choak
 Fam'd Amazonia's stream with dead! Or why
 Once more revive the story old in fame,
 Of Atabilipa, by thirst of gold
 Depriv'd of life: which not Peru's rich ore,
 Nor Mexico's vast mines cou'd then redeem.
 Better these northern realms deserve our song,
 Discover'd by Britannia for her sons;
 Undeluged with seas of Indian blood,
 Which cruel Spain on southern regions spilt;
 To gain by terrors what the gen'rous breast
 Wins by fair treaty, conquers without blood.
Eugenio
High in renown th' intrepid hero stands,
 From Europe's shores advent'ring first to try
 New seas, new oceans, unexplor'd by man.
 Fam'd Cabot too may claim our noblest song,
 Who from th' Atlantic surge decry'd these shores,
 As on he coasted from the Mexic bay
 To Acady and piny Labradore.
 Nor less than him the muse would celebrate
 Bold Hudson stemming to the pole, thro' seas
 Vex'd with continual storms, thro' the cold straits,
 Where Europe and America oppose
 Their shores contiguous, and the northern sea
 Confin'd, indignant, swells and roars between.
 With these be number'd in the list of fame
 Illustrious Raleigh, hapless in his fate:
 Forgive me, Raleigh, if an infant muse
 Borrows thy name to grace her humble strain;
 By many nobler are thy virtues sung;
 Envy no more shall throw them in the shade;
 They pour new lustre on Britannia's isle.
 Thou too, advent'rous on th' Atlantic main,
 Burst thro' its storms and fair Virginia hail'd,
 The simple natives saw thy canvas flow,
 And gaz'd aloof upon the shady shore:
 For in her woods America contain'd,
 From times remote, a savage race of men.
 How shall we know their origin, how tell,
 From whence or where the Indian tribes arose?
Acasto
And long has this defy'd the sages skill
 T'investigate: Tradition seems to hide
 The mighty secret from each mortal eye,
 How first these various nations South and North
 Possest these shores, or from what countries came;
 Whether they sprang from some premœval head
 In their own lands, like Adam in the East;
 Yet this the sacred oracles deny,
 And reason too reclaims against the thought.
 For when the gen'ral deluge drown'd the world,
 Where could their tribes have found security?
 Where find their fate but in the ghastly deep?
 Unless, as others dream, some chosen few
 High on the Andes 'scap'd the gen'ral death,
 High on the Andes, wrapt in endless snow,
 Where winter in his wildest fury reigns.
 But here Philosophers oppose the scheme,
 The earth, say they, nor hills nor mountains knew
 E'er yet the universal flood prevail'd:
 But when the mighty waters rose aloft,
 Rous'd by the winds, they shook their solid case
 And in convulsions tore the drowned world!
 'Till by the winds assuag'd they quickly fell
 And all their ragged bed exposed to view.
 Perhaps far wand'ring towards the northern pole,
 The straits of Zembla and the Frozen Zone,
 And where the eastern Greenland almost joins
 America's north point, the hardy tribes
 Of banish'd Jews, Siberians, Tartars wild
 Came over icy mountains, or on floats
 First reach'd these coasts hid from the world beside.
 And yet another argument more strange
 Reserv'd for men of deeper thought and late
 Presents Itself to view: In Peleg's days,
 So says the Hebrew seer's inspired pen,
 This mighty mass of earth, this solid globe
 Was cleft in twain—cleft east and west apart
 While strait between the deep Atlantic roll'd.
 And traces indisputable remain
 Of this unhappy land now sunk and lost;
 The islands rising in the eastern main
 Are but small fragments of this continent,
 Whose two extremities were Newfoundland
 And St. Helena.—One far in the north
 Where British seamen now with strange surprise
 Behold the pole star glitt'ring o'er their heads;
 The other in the southern tropic rears
 Its head above the waves; Bermudas and
 Canary isles, Britannia and th' Azores,
 With fam'd Hibernia are but broken parts
 Of some prodigious waste which once sustain'd
 Armies by lands, where now but ships can range.
Leander
Your sophistry, Acasto, makes me smile;
 The roving mind of man delights to dwell
 On hidden things, merely because they're hid;
 He thinks his knowledge ne'er can reach too high
 And boldly pierces nature's inmost haunts
 But for uncertainties; your broken isles,
 Your northern Tartars, and your wand'ring Jews,
 Hear what the voice of history proclaims.
 The Carthaginians, e'er the Roman yoke
 Broke their proud spirits and enslav'd them too,
 For navigation were reknown'd as much
 As haughty Tyre with all her hundred fleets;
 Full many a league their vent'rous seamen sail'd
 Thro' strait Gibralter down the western shore
 Of Africa, and to Canary isles
 By them call'd fortunate, so Flaccus sings,
 Because eternal spring there crowns the fields,
 And fruits delicious bloom throughout the year.
 From voyaging here this inference I draw,
 Perhaps some barque with all her num'rous crew
 Caught by the eastern trade wind hurry'd on
 Before th' steady blast to Brazil's shore,
 New Amazonia and the coasts more south.
 Here standing and unable to return.
 For ever from their native skies estrang'd,
 Doubtless they made the unknown land their own.
 And in the course of many rolling years
 A num'rous progeny from these arose,
 And spread throughout the coasts; those whom we call
 Brazilians, Mexicans, Peruvians rich,
 Th' tribes of Chili, Patagon and those
 Who till the shores of Amazon's long stream.
 When first the pow'rs of Europe here attain'd,
 Vast empires, kingdoms, cities, palaces
 And polish'd nations stock'd the fertile land;
 Who has not heard of Cusco, Lima and
 The town of Mexico; huge cities form'd
 From Europe's architecture, e'er the arms
 Of haughty Spain disturb'd the peaceful soil.
Eugenio
Such disquisition leads the puzzled mind
 From maze to maze by queries still perplex'd.
 But this we know, if from the east they came.
 Where science first and revelation beam'd,
 Long since they've lost all memory, all trace
 Of this their origin: Tradition tells
 Of some great forefather beyond the lakes
 Oswego, Huron, Mechigan, Champlaine
 Or by the stream of Amazon which rolls
 Thro' many a clime; while others simply dream
 That from the Andes or the mountains north,
 Some hoary fabled ancestor came down
 To people this their world.
Leander
How fallen, Oh!
 How much obscur'd is human nature here!
 Shut from the light of science and of truth
 They wander'd blindfold down the steep of time;
 Dim superstition with her ghastly train
 Of dæmons, spectres and foreboding signs
 Still urging them to horrid rites and forms
 Of human sacrifice, to sooth the pow'rs
 Malignant, and the dark infernal king.
 Once on this spot perhaps a wigwam stood
 With all its rude inhabitants, or round
 Some mighty fire an hundred savage sons
 Gambol'd by day, and filled the night with cries;
 In what superior to the brutal race
 That fled before them thro' the howling wilds,
 Were all those num'rous tawny tribes which swarm'd
 From Baffin's bay to Del Fuego south,
 From California to the Oronoque?
 Far from the reach of fame they liv'd unknown
 In listless slumber and inglorious ease;
 To them fair science never op'd her stores,
 Nor sacred truth sublim'd the soul to God;
 No fix'd abode their wand'ring genius knew;
 No golden harvest crown'd the fertile glebe;
 No city then adorn'd the river's bank,
 Nor rising turret overlook'd the stream.
Acasto
Now view the prospect chang'd; far off at sea
 The mariner descry's our spacious towns,
 He hails the prospect of the land and views
 A new, a fair, a fertile world arise;
 Onward from India's isles far east, to us
 Now fair-ey'd commerce stretches her white sails,
 Learning exalts her head, the graces smile
 And peace establish'd after horrid war
 Improves the splendor of these early times.
 But come, my friends, and let us trace the steps
 By which this recent happy world arose,
 To this fair eminence of high renown
 This height of wealth, of liberty and fame.
Leander
Speak then, Eugenio, for I've heard you tell
 The pleasing hist'ry, and the cause that brought
 The first advent'rers to these happy shores;
 The glorious cause that urg'd our fathers first
 To visit climes unknown and wilder woods
 Than e'er Tartarian or Norwegian saw,
 And with fair culture to adorn that soil
 Which never knew th' Industrious swain before.
Eugenio
All this long story to rehearse would tire;
 Besides, the sun toward the west retreats,
 Nor can the noblest tale retard his speed,
 Nor loftiest verse; not that which sung the fall
 Of Troy divine and smooth Scamander's stream.
 Yet hear a part.—By persecution wrong'd
 And popish cruelty, our fathers came
 From Europe's shores to find this blest abode,
 Secure from tyranny and hateful man,
 And plough'd th' Atlantic wave in quest of peace;
 And found new shores and sylvan settlements
 Form'd by the care of each advent'rous chief,
 Who, warm in liberty and freedom's cause,
 Sought out uncultivated tracts and wilds,
 And fram'd new plans of cities, governments
 And spacious provinces: Why should I name
 Thee, Penn, the Solon of our western lands;
 Sagacious legislator, whom the world
 Admires tho' dead: an infant colony,
 Nurs'd by thy care, now rises o'er the rest
 Like that tall Pyramid on Memphis' stand
 O'er all the lesser piles, they also great.
 Why should I name those heroes so well known
 Who peopled all the rest from Canada
 To Georgia's farthest coasts, West Florida
 Or Apalachian mountains; yet what streams
 Of blood were shed! What Indian hosts were slain
 Before the days of peace were quite restor'd.
Leander
Yes, while they overturn'd the soil untill'd,
 And swept the forests from the shaded plain
 'Midst dangers, foes and death, fierce Indian tribes
 With deadly malice arm'd and black design,
 Oft murder'd half the hapless colonies.
 Encourag'd too by that inglorious race
 False Gallia's sons, who once their arms display'd
 At Quebec, Montreal and farthest coasts
 Of Labrador and Esquimaux where now
 The British standard awes the coward host.
 Here those brave chiefs, who lavish of their blood
 Fought in Britannia's cause, most nobly fell.
 What Heart but mourns the untimely fate of Wolf,
 Who dying conquer'd, or what breast but beats
 To share a fate like his, and die like him?
Acasto
And he demands our lay who bravely fell
 By Monangahela and the Ohio's stream;
 By wiles o'ercome the hapless hero fell,
 His soul too gen'rous for that dastard crew
 Who kill unseen and shun the face of day.
 Ambush'd in wood, and swamp and thick grown hill,
 The bellowing tribes brought on the savage war.
 What could avail, O Braddock, then the flame,
 The gen'rous flame which fir'd thy martial soul!
 What could avail Britannia's warlike troops,
 Choice spirits of her isle? What could avail
 America's own sons? The skulking foe,
 Hid in the forest lay and fought secure,
 What could the brave Virginians do, o'erpower'd
 By such vast numbers and their leader dead?
 'Midst fire and death they bore him from the field,
 Where in his blood full many a hero lay.
 'Twas there, O Halkut! thou so nobly fell,
 Thrice valiant Halkut, early son of fame!
 We still deplore a face so immature,
 Fair Albion mourns thy unsuccessful end,
 And Caledonia sheds a tear for him
 Who led the bravest of her sons to war.
Eugenio
But why alas commemorate the dead?
 And pass those glorious heroes by, who yet
 Breathe the same air and see the light with us?
 The dead, Acasto, are but empty names
 And he who dy'd to day the same to us
 As he who dy'd a thousand years ago.
 A Johnson lives, among the sons of fame
 Well known, conspicuous as the morning star
 Among the lesser lights: A patriot skill'd
 In all the glorious arts of peace or war.
 He for Britannia gains the savage race,
 Unstable as the sea, wild as the winds,
 Cruel as death, and treacherous as hell,
 Whom none but he by kindness yet could win,
 None by humanity could gain their souls,
 Or bring from woods and subteranean dens
 The skulking crew, before a Johnson rose,
 Pitying their num'rous tribes: ah how unlike
 The Cortez' and Acosta's, pride of Spain
 Whom blood and murder only satisfy'd.
 Behold their doleful regions overflow'd
 With gore, and blacken'd with ten thousand deaths
 From Mexico to Patagonia far,
 Where howling winds sweep round the southern cape,
 And other suns and other stars arise!
Acasto
Such is the curse, Eugenio, where the soul
 Humane is wanting, but we boast no feats
 Of cruelty like Spain's unfeeling sons.
 The British Epithet is merciful:
 And we the sons of Britain learn like them
 To conquer and to spare; for coward souls
 Seek their revenge but on a vanquish'd foe.
 Gold, fatal gold was the alluring bait
 To Spain's rapacious mind, hence rose the wars
 From Chili to the Caribbean sea,
 O'er Terra-Firma and La Plata wide.
 Peru then sunk in ruins, great before
 With pompous cities, monuments superb
 Whose tops reach'd heav'n. But we more happy boast
 No golden metals in our peaceful land,
 No flaming diamond, precious emerald,
 Or blushing saphire, ruby, chrysolite
 Or jasper red; more noble riches flow
 From agriculture and th' industrious swain,
 Who tills the fertile vale or mountain's brow,
 Content to lead a safe, a humble life
 'Midst his own native hills; romantic scenes,
 Such as the muse of Greece did feign so well.
 Envying their lovely bow'rs to mortal race.
Leander
Long has the rural life been justly fam'd;
 And poets old their pleasing pictures drew
 Of flow'ry meads, and groves and gliding streams.
 Hence, old Arcadia, woodnymphs, satyrs, fauns
 And hence Elysium, fancy'd heav'n below.
 Fair agriculture, not unworthy kings,
 Once exercis'd the royal hand, or those
 Whose virtue rais'd them to the rank of gods.
 See old Laertes in his shepherd weeds,
 Far from his pompous throne and court august,
 Digging the grateful soil, where peaceful blows
 The west wind murm'ring thro' the aged trees
 Loaded with apples red, sweet scented peach
 And each luxurious fruit the world affords,
 While o'er the fields the harmless oxen draw
 Th' industrious plough. The Roman heroes too,
 Fabricius and Camillus, lov'd a life
 Of sweet simplicity and rustic joy;
 And from the busy Forum hast'ning far,
 'Midst woods and fields spent the remains of age.
 How grateful to behold the harvests rise
 And mighty crops adorn the golden plains!
 Fair plenty smiles throughout, while lowing herds
 Stalk o'er the grassy hill or level mead,
 Or at some winding river slake their thirst.
 Thus fares the rustic swain; and when the winds
 Blow with a keener breath, and from the North
 Pour all their tempests thro' a sunless sky,
 Ice, sleet and rattling hail, secure he sits
 In some thatch'd cottage fearless of the storm;
 While on the hearth a fire still blazing high
 Chears ev'ry mind, and nature sits serene
 On ev'ry countenance, such the joys
 And such the fate of those whom heav'n hath bless'd
 With souls enamour'd of a country life.
Eugenio
Much wealth and pleasure agriculture brings;
 Far in the woods she raises palaces,
 Puisant states and crowded realms where late
 A desart plain or frowning wilderness
 Deform'd the view; or where with moving tents
 The scatter'd nations seeking pasturage,
 Wander'd from clime to clime incultivate;
 Or where a race more savage yet than these,
 In search of prey o'er hill and mountain rang'd,
 Fierce as the tygers and the wolves they slew.
 Thus lives th' Arabian and the Tartar wild
 In woody wastes which never felt the plough;
 But agriculture crowns our happy land,
 And plants our colonies from north to south,
 From Cape Breton far as the Mexic bay,
 From th' Eastern shores to Mississippi's stream.
 Famine to us unknown, rich plenty reigns
 And pours her blessings with a lavish hand.
Leander
Nor less from golden commerce flow the streams
 Of richest plenty on our smiling land.
 Now fierce Bellona must'ring all her rage,
 To other climes and other seas withdraws,
 To rouse the Russian on the desp'rate Turk
 There to conflict by Danube and the straits
 Which join the Euxine to th' Egean Sea.
 Britannia holds the empire of the waves,
 And welcomes ev'ry bold adventurer
 To view the wonders of old Ocean's reign.
 Far to the east our fleets on traffic sail,
 And to the west thro' boundless seas which not
 Old Rome nor Tyre nor mightier Carthage knew.
 Daughter of commerce, from the hoary deep
 New-York emerging rears her lofty domes,
 And hails from far her num'rous ships of trade,
 Like shady forests rising on the waves.
 From Europe's shores or from the Caribbees,
 Homeward returning annually they bring
 The richest produce of the various climes.
 And Philadelphia, mistress of our world,
 The seat of arts, of science, and of fame,
 Derives her grandeur from the pow'r of trade.
 Hail, happy city, where the muses stray,
 Where deep philosophy convenes her sons
 And opens all her secrets to their view!
 Bids them ascend with Newton to the skies,
 And trace the orbits of the rolling spheres,
 Survey the glories of the universe.
 Its suns and moons and ever blazing stars!
 Hail, city, blest with liberty's fair beams,
 And with the rays of mild religion blest!
Acasto
Nor these alone, America, thy sons
 In the short circle of a hundred years
 Have rais'd with toil along thy shady shores.
 On lake and bay and navigable stream,
 From Cape Breton to Pensacola south,
 Unnnmber'd towns and villages arise.
 By commerce nurs'd these embrio marts of trade
 May yet awake the envy and obscure
 The noblest cities of the eastern world;
 For commerce is the mighty reservoir
 From whence all nations draw the streams of gain.
 'Tis commerce joins dissever'd worlds in one,
 Confines old Ocean to more narrow bounds;
 Outbraves his storms and peoples half his world.
Eugenio
And from the earliest times advent'rous man
 On foreign traffic stretch'd the nimble sail;
 Or sent the slow pac'd caravan afar
 O'er barren wastes, eternal sands where not
 The blissful haunt of human form is seen
 Nor tree, not ev'n funeral cypress sad
 Nor bubbling fountain. Thus arriv'd of old
 Golconda's golden ore, and thus the wealth
 Of Ophir to the wisest of mankind.
Leander
Great is the praise of commerce, and the men
 Deserve our praise who spread from shore to shore
 The flowing sail; great are their dangers too;
 Death ever present to the fearless eye
 And ev'ry billow but a gaping grave;
 Yet all these mighty feats to science owe
 Their rise and glory.—Hail fair science! thou,
 Transplanted from the eastern climes, dost bloom
 In these fair regions, Greece and Rome no more
 Detain the muses on Cithæron's brow,
 Or old Olympus crown'd with waving woods;
 Or Hæmus' top where once was heard the harp,
 Sweet Orpheus' harp that ravish'd hell below
 And pierc'd the soul of Orcus and his bride,
 That hush'd to silence by the song divine
 Thy melancholy waters, and the gales
 O Hebrus! which o'er thy sad surface blow.
 No more the maids round Alpheus' waters stray
 Where he with Arethusa's stream doth mix,
 Or where swift Tiber disembogues his waves
 Into th' Italian sea so long unsung.
 Hither they've wing'd their way, the last, the best
 Of countries where the arts shall rise and grow
 Luxuriant, graceful; and ev'n now we boast
 A Franklin skill'd in deep philosophy,
 A genius piercing as th' electric fire,
 Bright as the light'ning's flash, explain'd so well
 By him, the rival of Britannia's sage.
 This is a land of ev'ry joyous sound
 Of liberty and life; sweet liberty!
 Without whose aid the noblest genius fails,
 And science irretrievably must die.
Acasto
This is a land where the more noble light
 Of holy revelation beams, the star
 Which rose from Judah lights our skies, we feel
 Its influence as once did Palestine
 And Gentile lands, where now the ruthless Turk
 Wrapt up in darkness sleeps dull life away.
 Here many holy messengers of peace
 As burning lamps have given light to men.
 To thee, O Whitefield; favourite of Heav'n,
 The muse would pay the tribute of a tear.
 Laid in the dust thy eloquence no more
 Shall charm the list'ning soul, no more
 Thy bold imagination paint the scenes
 Of woe and horror in the shades below;
 Of glory radiant in the fields above;
 No more thy charity relieve the poor;
 Let Georgia mourn, let all her orphans weep.
Leander
Yet tho' we wish'd him longer from the skies,
 And wept to see the ev'ning of his days,
 He long'd himself to reach his final hope,
 The crown of glory for the just prepar'd.
 From life's high verge he hail'd th' eternal shore
 And, freed at last from his confinement, rose
 An infant seraph to the worlds on high.
Eugenio
For him we found the melancholy lyre,
 The lyre responsive to each distant sigh:
 No grief like that which mourns departing souls
 Of holy, just and venerable men,
 Whom pitying Heav'n sends from their native skies
 To light our way and bring us nearer God.
 But come, Leander, since we know the past
 And present glory of this empire wide,
 What hinders to pervade with searching eye
 The mystic scenes of dark futurity?
 Say, shall we ask what empires yet must rise,
 What kingdoms, pow'rs and states where now are seen
 But dreary wastes and awful solitude,
 Where melancholy sits with eye forlorn
 And hopes the day when Britain's sons shall spread
 Dominion to the north and south and west
 Far from th' Atlantic to Pacific shores?
 A glorious theme, but how shall mortals dare
 To pierce the mysteries of future days,
 And scenes unravel only known to fate.
Acasto
This might we do if warm'd by that bright coal
 Snatch'd from the altar of seraphic fire,
 Which touch'd Isaiah's lips, or if the spirit
 Of Jeremy and Amos, prophets old,
 Should fire the breast; but yet I call the muse
 And what we can will do. I see, I see
 A thousand kingdoms rais'd, cities and men
 Num'rous as sand upon the ocean shore;
 Th' Ohio then shall glide by many a town
 Of note: and where the Mississippi stream
 By forests shaded now runs weeping on,
 Nations shall grow and states not less in fame
 Than Greece and Rome of old: we too shall boast
 Our Alexanders, Pompeys, heroes, kings
 That in the womb of time yet dormant lye
 Waiting the joyful hour for life and light.
 O snatch us hence, ye muses! to those days
 When, through the veil of dark antiquity,
 Our sons shall hear of us as things remote,
 That blossom'd in the morn of days, alas!
 How could I weep that we were born so soon,
 In the beginning of more happy times!
 But yet perhaps our fame shall last unhurt.
 The sons of science nobly scorn to die;
 Immortal virtue this denies, the muse
 Forbids the men to slumber in the grave
 Who well deserve the praise that virtue gives.
Eugenio
'Tis true no human eye can penetrate
 The veil obscure, and in fair light disclos'd
 Behold the scenes of dark futurity;
 Yet if we reason from the course of things,
 And downward trace the vestiges of time,
 The mind prophetic grows and pierces far
 Thro' ages yet unborn. We saw the states
 And mighty empires of the East arise
 In swift succession from the Assyrian
 To Macedon and Rome; to Britain thence
 Dominion drove her car, she stretch'd her reign
 O'er many isles, wide seas, and peopled lands.
 Now in the west a continent appears;
 A newer world now opens to her view,
 She hastens onward to th' Americ shores
 And bids a scene of recent wonders rise.
 New states, new empires and a line of kings,
 High rais'd in glory, cities, palaces,
 Fair domes on each long bay, sea, shore or stream,
 Circling the hills now rear their lofty heads.
 Far in the Arctic skies a Petersburgh,
 A Bergen, or Archangel lifts its spires
 Glitt'ring with Ice, far in the West appears
 A new Palmyra or an Ecbatan
 And sees the slow pac'd caravan return
 O'er many a realm from the Pacific shore,
 Where fleets shall then convey rich Persia's silks,
 Arabia's perfumes, and spices rare
 Of Philippine, Cœlebe and Marian isles,
 Or from the Acapulco coast our India then,
 Laden with pearl and burning gems and gold.
 Far in the south I see a Babylon,
 As once by Tigris or Euphrates stream,
 With blazing watch tow'rs and observatories
 Rising to heav'n; from thence astronomers
 With optic glass take nobler views of God
 In golden suns and shining worlds display'd
 Than the poor Chaldean with the naked eye.
 A Nineveh where Oronoque descends
 With waves discolour'd from the Andes high,
 Winding himself around a hundred isles
 Where golden buildings glitter o'er his tide.
 To mighty nations shall the people grow
 Which cultivate the banks of many a flood,
 In chrystal currents poured from the hills
 Apalachia nam'd, to lave the sands
 Of Carolina, Georgia, and the plains
 Stretch'd out from thence far to the burning Line,
 St. Johns or Clarendon or Albemarle.
 And thou Patowmack, navigable stream,
 Rolling thy waters thro' Virginia's groves,
 Shall vie with Thames, the Tiber or the Rhine,
 For on thy banks I see an hundred towns
 And the tall vessels wafted down thy tide.
 Hoarse Niagara's stream now roaring on
 Thro' woods and rocks and broken mountains torn,
 In days remote far from their antient beds,
 By some great monarch taught a better course,
 Or cleared of cataracts shall flow beneath
 Unnumbr'd boats and merchandise and men;
 And from the coasts of piny Labradore,
 A thousand navies crowd before the gale,
 And spread their commerce to remotest lands,
 Or bear their thunder round the conquered world.
Leander
And here fair freedom shall forever reign.
 I see a train, a glorious train appear,
 Of Patriots plac'd in equal fame with those
 Who nobly fell for Athens or for Rome.
 The sons of Boston, resolute and brave,
 The firm supporters of our injur'd rights,
 Shall lose their splendours in the brighter beams
 Of patriots fam'd and heroes yet unborn.
Acasto
'Tis but the morning of the world with us
 And Science yet but sheds her orient rays.
 I see the age, the happy age, roll on
 Bright with the splendours of her mid-day beams,
 I see a Homer and a Milton rise
 In all the pomp and majesty of song,
 Which gives immortal vigour to the deeds
 Atchiev'd by Heroes in the fields of fame.
 A second Pope, like that Arabian bird
 Of which no age can boast but one, may yet
 Awake the muse by Schuylkill's silent stream,
 And bid new forests bloom along her tide.
 And Susquehanna's rocky stream unsung,
 In bright meanders winding round the hills,
 Where first the mountain nymph, sweet echo, heard
 The uncouth musick of my rural lay,
 Shall yet remurmur to the magic sound
 Of song heroic, when in future days
 Some noble Hambden rises into fame.
Leander
Or Roanoke's and James's limpid waves
 The sound of musick murmurs in the gale:
 Another Denham celebrates their flow,
 In gliding numbers and harmonious lays.
Eugenio
Now in the bow'rs of Tuscororah hills,
 As once on Pindus all the muses stray,
 New Theban bards high soaring reach the skies
 And swim along thro' azure deeps of air.
Leander
From Alleghany in thick groves imbrown'd,
 Sweet music breathing thro' the shades of night
 Steals on my ear, they sing the origin
 Of those fair lights which gild the firmament;
 From whence the gale that murmurs in the pines;
 Why flows the stream down from the mountains brow
 And rolls the ocean lower than the land.
 They sing the final destiny of things,
 The great result of all our labours here,
 The last day's glory, and the world renew'd.
 Such are their themes, for in these happier days
 The bard enraptur'd scorns ignoble strains,
 Fair science smiling and full truth revealed,
 The world at peace, and all her tumults o'er,
 The blissful prelude to Emanuel's reign.
Eugenio
And when a train of rolling years are past,
 (So sang the exil'd seer in Patmos isle,)
 A new Jerusalem sent down from heav'n
 Shall grace our happy earth, perhaps this land,
 Whose virgin bosom shall then receive, tho' late,
 Myriads of saints with their almighty king,
 To live and reign on earth a thousand years
 Thence call'd Millennium. Paradise anew
 Shall flourish, by no second Adam lost.
 No dang'rous tree or deathful fruit shall grow,
 No tempting serpent to allure the soul,
 From native innocence; a Canaan here
 Another Canaan shall excel the old,
 And from fairer Pisgah's top be seen.
 No thistle here or briar or thorn shall spring,
 Earth's curse before: the lion and the lamb
 In mutual friendship link'd shall browse the shrub,
 And tim'rous deer with rabid tygers stray
 O'er mead or lofty hill or grassy plain.
 Another Jordan's stream shall glide along
 And Siloah's brook in circling eddies flow,
 Groves shall adorn their verdant banks, on which
 The happy people free from second death
 Shall find secure repose; no fierce disease
 No fevers, slow consumption, direful plague
 Death's ancient ministers, again renew
 Perpetual war with man: Fair fruits shall bloom
 Fair to the eye, sweet to the taste, if such
 Divine inhabitants could need the taste
 Of elemental food, amid the joys,
 Fit for a heav'nly nature. Music's charms
 Shall swell the lofty soul and harmony
 Triumphant reign; thro' ev'ry grove shall sound
 The cymbal and the lyre, joys too divine
 For fallen man to know. Such days the world
 And such, America, thou first shall have
 When ages yet to come have run their round
 And future years of bliss alone remain.
Acasto
This is thy praise. America, thy pow'r,
 Thou best of climes, by science visited,
 By freedom blest and richly stor'd with all
 The luxuries of life. Hail, happy land,
 The seat of empire, the abode of kings,
 The final stage where time shall introduce
 Renowned characters, and glorious works
 Of high invention and of wond'rous art
 Which not the ravages of time shall waste
 Till he himself has run his long career;
 Till all those glorious orbs of light on high,
 The rolling wonders that surround the ball,
 Drop from their spheres extinguish'd and consum'd;
 When final ruin with her fiery car
 Rides o'er creation, and all nature's works
 Are lost in chaos and the womb of night.

The 1786 edition, which was evolved with such great changes from the original version, furnished the text of the 1795 edition. There were some twenty variations and three added lines, viz., lines 354, 427, 438. Line 265 was changed from "Which full enjoyment only finds for fools," to its final form; line 352 was changed from "A thousand kingdoms rais'd;" line 360, from "Our Alexanders, Pompeys, heroes, kings;" line 371, from "One monarchy;" and 461, from "Death's ancient." The other changes were largely verbal, nearly all being for the better. For the edition of 1809, Freneau used the 1795 text, with some twenty-one variations and one added line, viz., line 67. These variations, which nearly all concern single words, are generally not at all for the better: for instance, "Shackle," in line 343, is changed to "people;" "our sons," in line 365, is changed to "a race;" "were born," in 367, to "we exist;" and "strumpets," in 409, to "vagrants." Freneau's notes in the various editions were as follows:

  62. Genesis x, 25.
 100. Hor. Epod. 16.
 207. 1755.
 251. Hom. Odyss. B. 24.
 328. Newton.
 373. The Massacre at Boston. March 5th, 1770, is here more particularly glanced at.

ON RETIREMENT[46]

(By Hezekiah Salem)