The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume II Part 53

And vestments, soak'd in Stygian dye, Where'er you go, alarm the eye:

On me, a poor and small domain, With something of a poet's vein The muse bestow'd--and share of pride To spurn a scoundrel from my side.

[358] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, Sept. 5, 1787. In the 1788 edition it was ent.i.tled "Horace, Lib. II, Ode 16, Imitated and addressed to Governor Parr. _Otium divos rogat in patenti_, &c." The poem seems to have been occasioned by the return of General Arnold to Nova Scotia from England. Text from the edition of 1795.

[359]

"An hundred _slaves_ before you fall, A coach and six attends your call."--_Ed. 1788._

SLENDER'S JOURNEY[A][360]

_Sit mihi fas audita loqui._--Virg.

[A] Mr. Robert Slender, of Philadelphia (Stocking Weaver).

_Freneau's note._

I. PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS

Tormented with landlords and pester'd with care, This life, I protest, is a tedious affair; And, since I have got a few dollars to spare, I'll e'en take a jaunt, for the sake of fresh air.

Since the day I return'd to this king-hating sh.o.r.e Where George and his cronies are masters no more, And others are plac'd at the helm of affairs, Relieving the weight of his majesty's cares; For many long weeks, it has still been my doom To sit like a mopus, confin'd to my loom,[B]

Whose d.a.m.nable clatter so addles my brain, That, say what they will, I am forc'd to complain.

Our citizens think, when they sit themselves down In the gardens that grow in the skirts of the town, They think they have got in some rural retreat, Where the nymphs of the groves, and the singing birds meet When only a fence shuts them out from the street; With the smoke of the city be-clouding their eyes They sit in their boxes, and look very wise, Take a sip of bad punch, or a gla.s.s of sour wine; Conceiting their pleasures are equal to mine, Who rove where I will, and wherever I roam, In spite of new faces, am always at home.

Poor Richard, the reel-man, had nothing to say; He knew very well I would have my own way;-- When I said, "My dear Richard, I'm sick of the town, "And Dutchmen that worry me, upstairs and down, "A book of bad debts, and a score of bad smells, "The yelping of dogs, and the chiming of bells; "I am sick of the house, and the sight of small beer, "And the loom may be going, tho' I am not here; "I therefore shall leave you, and that, to be plain, "'Till I feel in a humour to see you again."-- Poor Richard said nothing to all that I spoke, But kindled his pipe, and redoubled his smoke.

Yet it would have been nothing but friendship in him To have said,--"Robert Slender, 'tis only a whim:-- A trip to the Schuylkill, that nothing would cost, Might answer your ends, and no time would be lost; But if you are thinking to make a long stay, Consider, good Robert, what people will say: His rent running on, and his loom standing still-- The man will be ruin'd!--he must, if he will--!

If tradesmen will always be flaunting about, They may live to repent it--before the year's out!"

[B] The stocking-loom was invented by a young man who paid his addresses to a handsome stocking-knitter, and being rejected, in revenge contrived this curious machine, which, it is said, consists of no less than six thousand different pieces. _Freneau's note, 1788 edition._

II. _Characters of the_ TRAVELLERS

WILLIAM SNIP, _Merchant Taylor_

As I never could relish to travel alone, I look'd round about, but could hit upon none Whom Satan was tempting to leave their own houses And ramble to York with their daughters and spouses; At last, by repeating my trouble and care, And preaching a month on the sweets of fresh air, And the curse and the plague of remaining in town, Where the heat was sufficient to melt a man down, I got a few friends to consent to the trip; And the first I shall mention was honest Will. Snip, Philadelphia the famous had own'd to his birth, The gravest of towns on the face of the earth; Where saints of all orders their freedom may claim, And poets, and painters, and girls of the game: To him all its streets and its alleys were known, But his travels had never exceeded the town:-- A salesman by trade (and a dabster was he To make a silk knee-band set snug to the knee) With his wife (and he says I may mention her name) Susanna Snipinda--so charming a dame, The sun had with pleasure look'd down on her head, So freckled was she, and her tresses so red.

To wait on the will of so handsome a lady A youngster was order'd to hold himself ready, A sly looking lad that was 'prentice to Snip, And long had been learning to cabbage and clip;-- When Snip was in sight, he was mild as a lamb; When absent, old Satan could hardly rule Sam.

III. O'KEEF, _a Swaggering Captain_

The next I describe is bold captain O'Keef, A killer of men, and a lover of beef: With the heroes of old he had put in his claim, And catch'd at their mantles, and rose into fame: To the sound of a fife and the tune of no song With his Andra Ferrara[C] he paddled along: From his manners so rough, and his dealing in ruin, He was known thro' the town by the name of Sir Bruin; He was, among women, a man of great parts, A captain of foot, and a master of arts: He had, a sweet creature put under his care, (Whose style of address was, my dear, and my dear) A Milliner's girl, with a bundle of lace, Whom Cynthia[D] he call'd, for the sake of her face, At a ball or a frolic how glib his tongue ran, He was, I may say, an unparallell'd man, Very apt to harangue on the hosts he has slain Of people--perhaps that may meet him again: Yet so kind to the s.e.x of the feminine make, By his words, he would venture to die for their sake, Whence some have suspected, that some he ador'd Have more than made up for the wastes of his sword.

[C] A large kind of sword, in use among the Italians.--_Freneau's note, 1795 edition._

[D] Cynthia is also a poetical name for the Moon.--_Freneau's note, 1788 edition._

IV. TOUPPEE: _a French Hair Dresser_

The third in succession was Monsieur Touppee, A barber from Paris, of royal degree, (For oft when he takes up his razor, to strap it, He tells his descent from the house of Hugh Capet[E]) Tho' soft in the head, his discourses were long, Now counting his honours, and now his l'argent.

This barber, tho' meaning for pleasure to stray, Yet had some pomatum to sell by the way, Perfumes, and fine powders, and essence of myrrh, A bundle of brooms, and a firkin of beer:-- His merits are great (he would have us suppose) For Louis (it seems) he has had by the nose, Has bid him, when drooping, to hold up his chin, And handled a tongs--at the head of the Queen.

[E] A popular French n.o.bleman, who, A. D. 987, usurped the crown of France, and was the first of a new race of monarchs.--_Freneau's note, 1788 edition._

V. BOB: _a Ballad Singer_

A singer of ballads was next in our train, Who long had been dealing in ballads in vain; He sometimes would sing in a musical tone, And sometimes would scribble a song of his own: Yet never was seen with his brethren to mix-- And laugh'd at your poets in coaches and six; Who sing, like the birds, when the weather is fine; Whose verses the ladies p.r.o.nounce "so divine;"

Who ride with Augustus, wherever he goes, And, meeting old Homer, would turn up the nose-- As to those, like himself, that were held to the ground, He knew it was folly to feed them with sound-- He knew it was nonsense to crown them with bays, And was too much their friend to insult them with praise.

For a dozen long years he had liv'd by the mob: On the word of a weaver, I pitied poor Bob![361]

He had sung for the great and had rhym'd for the small, But scarcely a shilling had got by them all-- So bad was his luck, and so poor was the trade, And the Muses, he thought, were so sneakingly paid, That if times didn't alter, and that very soon, He said and he swore, he must sing his last tune.

Some devil had put it, somehow, in his head If he took a short journey his fortune was made: Some devil had told him (but whether in dreams Or waking, I know not) some devil, it seems, Had made him believe that the nymphs and the swains Were fairly at war with their old fashion'd strains, That the tunes which the kirk or the curates had made (And which always had ruin'd the balladman's trade) Were wholly disus'd, and that now was the time For singers of catches and dealers in rhyme To step from their stalls, where they long were disgrac'd, Reform the old music, and fix a new taste.

VI. O'Bl.u.s.tER: _a Seaman_

A mate of a schooner, bespatter'd with tar, Who had lately come in from Savanna-la-Mar,[F]

For, the sake of an airing had stept from his deck And ventur'd a jaunt, at the risque of his neck, His name and his nation no soul could mistake.-- He was Bryan O'Bl.u.s.ter, and much of a rake; From morning till night he was still on the move, Was always in taverns, or always in love: His life was sustain'd by the virtues of grog, And many long miles he had sail'd by the log.-- Of battles and storms he had known a full share, And his face, it was plain, was the worse for the wear; To see a mean fellow, lord how it would fret him; And he hated a puppy, wherever he met him-- He was ready to bleed for the good of each State, But since they had left the poor seamen to fate; Themselves in the dumps, and their fair ones in tears, And many brave fellows detain'd in Algiers!-- Had spirit sufficient to make themselves free, But not to resent their affronts on the sea!

As this was the case--he must bid us good night, And sail with a flag that would do itself right.

At cursing and swearing he play'd a good hand, But never was easy a minute on land; If the wind was a-head, or his Kitty untrue, Why, patience was all the relief that he knew:-- In the midst of misfortune he still was serene, And Kitty, he said, was a feeble machine: His heart was too hard for a lady to sigh, Yet I guess'd him a rogue by the leer in his eye: "The world (he would say) is a whimsical dance-- And reason had taught him to leave it to chance.

In chace of dame Fortune his prime he had pa.s.s'd, And now was beginning to fail very fast, But thought it was folly his heart to perplex, As Fortune was just like the rest of her s.e.x;-- Designing, and fickle, and taken with show, Now fond of a monkey, and now of a beau:-- Yet, still, as the G.o.ddess was made up of whim, He meant to pursue 'till she smil'd upon him."

And tho' he was always deceiv'd in the chace, He smooth'd up his whiskers, and wore a bold face.

On horseback he first had attempted to go, But the horse was no fool, and had give him a throw; He fell in a pond, and with not a dry rag on The horse brought him back to the sign of the waggon, Where three times he call'd for a dram of their best, And three times the virtues of brandy confess'd; Then took some tobacco, and soberly said, "De'il take such a vessel; she's all by the head, Broach'd to on a sudden, and then, d'ye see, Myself and the saddle went over the lee."

His head was so full of his ragged command He could scarcely believe he was yet on dry land; He would rise in his sleep; call the watch up at four, Ask the man at the helm how the Eddystone bore; Then, rubbing his eyes, bawl out, "By my soul, "We are bearing right down on the Hatteras shoal; "The devil may trust to such pilots as you: "We are close on the breakers--the breakers--halloo!"

[F] A seaport town in the S. W. quarter of Jamaica.--_Freneau's note, 1788 edition._

VII. EZEKIEL: _a Rhode-Island Lawyer_

The sixth, and the last, that attended our journey, Was a man of the law, a Rhode-Island attorney, As cunning as Satan to argue or plead, To break an entailment, or get himself fee'd They call'd him Ezekiel--I cannot tell what-- Perhaps I forget it--perhaps I do not-- He had once been a parson, and studied at Yale,[G]

But took to the law, when his preaching grew stale; In his system of thinking, not well understood, I wander'd about, like a man in a wood; From morning 'till night he was nothing but whim, Not a man in the town held opinions, like him: In regard to the vulgar, he argued that Law Was better than preaching, to keep them in awe: That the dread of a gallows had greater effect, And a post or a pillory claim'd more respect From a knave--and would sooner contribute to mend, Than all the grave precepts that ever were penn'd.

[G] Yale College in New-Haven.--_Freneau's note, 1788 edition._

VIII. _The Chapter of_ DEBATES

Having pitch'd on our party, there rose a dispute On the mode of conveyance--in waggon or boat?

For my part, said Snip, I was always afraid Of sailors, and sloops and the shallopman's trade, And the reason thereof I will candidly tell, My grandmother, Mopsy, was drown'd in a well; I therefore intreat you, and fervently pray We may go with the waggons the Burlington way.

"Hold, master," the sailor replied in a fret, "The devil's not ready to bait for you yet: Even this way, you know, there is water to pa.s.s, And twenty long miles we should sail with an a.s.s;-- But, gentlemen all, will you take my advice?

Here's Albertson's[H] sloop; she's so new and so nice, Her bottom so sleek, and her rigging so trim, Not Bailey[H] or Hyde[H] can be mentioned with him; In her cabbin and steerage is plenty of room, And how clever she looks with her flying jib-boom, A topsail aloft, that will stand by the wind, And a yard rigg'd athwart, for a squaresail design'd.

"Odds fish! I would sooner some little delay Than go, like a b.o.o.by, the fresh-water way Where your cream-colour'd captains ne'er swear a bad word, And sail without compa.s.s or quadrant on board, Catch catfish and sturgeons, but never a whale, Nor balance a mizen, to fight with the gale: But Albertson goes by the route of Cape May, Salt-water, and sees the bold porp.u.s.s.es play: Where the sh.o.r.e of the coast the proud ocean controuls He travels, nor strikes on the Barnegat shoals."

"You tar-smelling monster! (Snipinda rejoin'd) Your jargon has almost distracted my mind.

If Snip should be drownded, and lost in the sea, You never once think what a loss it would be!