The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume III Part 6

NANNY[A]

The Philadelphia Housekeeper, to Nabby, her Friend in New-York[36]

[A] Occasioned by the intended removal of the Supreme Legislature of the United States from New-York to Philadelphia--a measure much agitated at the time the above was written--1790.--_Freneau's note._

Six weeks my dear mistress has been in a fret And nothing but Congress will do for her yet: She says they must come, or her senses she'll lose, From morning till night she is reading the news, And loves the dear fellows that vote for our town (Since no one can relish New-York but a clown, Where your beef is as lean, as if fattened on chaff, And folks are too haughty to worship--a calf) She tells us as how she has read in her books That G.o.d gives them meat, but the devil sends cooks; And Grumbleton told us (who often shoots flying) That fish you have plenty--but spoil them in frying; That your streets are as crooked, as crooked can be, Right forward three perches he never could see But his view was cut short with a house or a shop, That stood in his way--and obliged him to stop.

Those speakers that wish for New-York to decide,-- 'Tis a pity that talents are so misapplied!

My mistress declares she is vext to the heart That genius should take such a pitiful part; For the question, indeed, she is daily distrest, And Gerry, I think, she will ever detest, Who did all he could, with his tongue and his pen To keep the dear Congress shut up in your Den.

She insists, the expense of removing is small, And that two or three thousands will answer it all, If that is too much, and we're so very poor-- The pa.s.sage by water is cheaper, be sure; If people object the expence of a team, Here's Fitch with his wherry, will bring them by steam; And, Nabby!--if once he should take them on board, The Honour will be a sufficient reward.

But, as to myself, I vow and declare I wish it would suit them to stay where they are; I plainly foresee, that if once they remove Throughout the long day, we shall drive, and be drove, My madam's red rag will ring like a bell, And the hall and the parlour will never look well; Such scouring will be as has never been seen, We shall always be cleaning, and never be clean, And threats in abundance will work on my fears, Of blows on the back, and of cuffs on the ears-- Two trifles, at present, discourage her paw, The fear of the Lord, and the fear of the law-- But if Congress arrive, she will have such a sway, That gospel and law will be both done away;-- For the sake of a place I must bear all her din, And if ever so angry, do nothing but grin; So Congress, I hope in your town will remain, And Nanny will thank them again and again.

[36] Published in the _Daily Advertiser_, July 1, 1790. Text from the 1809 edition.

NABBY

The New-York Housekeeper, to Nanny, her Friend in Philadelphia[37]

Well, Nanny, I am sorry to find, since you writ us, The Congress at last has determined to quit us; You now may begin with your dish-clouts and brooms, To be scouring your knockers and scrubbing your rooms; As for us, my dear Nanny, we're much in a pet, And hundreds of houses will be to be let; Our streets, that were just in a way to look clever, Will now be neglected and nasty as ever; Again we must fret at the Dutchified gutters And pebble-stone pavements, that wear out our trotters.-- My master looks dull, and his spirits are sinking, From morning till night he is smoking and thinking, Laments the expence of destroying the fort, And says, your great people are all of a sort-- He hopes and he prays they may die in a stall, If they leave us in debt--for Federal Hall-- And Strap has declared, he has such regards, He will go, if they go, for the sake of their beards.

Miss Letty, poor lady, is so in the pouts, She values no longer our dances and routs, And sits in a corner, dejected and pale, As dull as a cat, and as lean as a rail!-- Poor thing, I'm certain she's in a decay, And all--because Congress Resolve--not to stay!-- This Congress unsettled is, sure, a sad thing, Seven years, my dear Nanny, they've been on the wing; My master would rather saw timber, or dig, Than see them removing to Conegocheague, Where the houses and kitchens are yet to be framed, The trees to be felled, and the streets to be named; Of the two, we had rather your town should receive 'em-- So here, my dear Nanny, in haste I must leave 'em, I'm a dunce at inditing--and as I'm a sinner, The beef is half raw--and the bell rings for dinner!

[37] Published in the _Daily Advertiser_, July 15, 1790. Text from the edition of 1809.

THE BERGEN PLANTER[38]

Attach'd to lands that ne'er deceiv'd his hopes, This rustic sees the seasons come and go, His autumn's toils return'd in summer's crops, While limpid streams, to cool his herbage, flow; And, if some cares intrude upon his mind, They are such cares as heaven for man design'd.

He to no pompous dome comes, cap in hand, Where new-made 'squires affect the courtly smile: Nor where Pomposo, 'midst his foreign band Extols the sway of kings, in swelling style, With tongue that babbled when it should have hush'd, A head that never thought--a face that never blush'd.

He on no party hangs his hopes or fears, Nor seeks the vote that baseness must procure; No stall-fed Mammon, for his gold, reveres, No splendid offers from his chests allure.

While showers descend, and suns their beams display, The same, to him, if Congress go or stay.

He at no levees watches for a glance, (Slave to disgusting, distant forms and modes) Heeds not the herd at Bufo's midnight dance, Dullman's mean rhymes, or Shylock's birth-day odes: Follies, like these, he deems beneath his care, And t.i.tles leaves for simpletons to wear.

Where wandering brooks from mountain sources roll, He seeks at noon the waters of the shade, Drinks deep, and fears no poison in the bowl That Nature for her happiest children made: And from whose clear and gently-pa.s.sing wave All drink alike--the master and the slave.

The scheming statesman shuns his homely door, Who, on the miseries of his country fed, Ne'er glanc'd his eye from that base pilfer'd store To view the sword, suspended by a thread-- Nor that "hand-writing," grav'd upon the wall, That tells him--but in vain--"the sword must fall."

He ne'er was made a holiday machine, Wheel'd here and there by 'squires in livery clad, Nor dreads the sons of legislation keen, Hard-hearted laws, and penalties most sad-- In humble hope his little fields were sown, A trifle, in your eye--but all his own.

[38] Published in the _Daily Advertiser_, July 12, 1790. Reprinted in the _National Gazette_ under the t.i.tle "The Pennsylvania Planter." Text from the 1795 edition.

TOBACCO

[Supposed to be written by a Young Beginner[39]]

This Indian weed, that once did grow On fair Virginia's fertile plain, From whence it came--again may go, To please some happier swain: Of all the plants that Nature yields This, least beloved, shall shun my fields.

In evil hour I first essayed To chew this vile forbidden leaf, When, half ashamed, and half afraid, I touched, and tasted--to my grief: Ah me! the more I was forbid, The more I wished to take a quid.

But when I smoaked, in thought profound, And raised the spiral circle high, My heart grew sick, my head turned round-- And what can all this mean, (said I)-- Tobacco surely was designed To poison, and destroy mankind.

Unhappy they, whom choice, or fate Inclines to prize this bitter weed; Perpetual source of female hate; On which no beast--but man will feed; That sinks my heart, and turns my head, And sends me, reeling, home to bed!

[39] Published in the _Daily Advertiser_, July 31, 1790. Text from the edition of 1809.

THE BANISHED MAN[40]

Since man may every region claim, And Nature is, in most, the same, And we a part of her wide plan, Tell me, what makes The Banish'd Man.

The favourite spot, that gave us birth, We fondly call our mother earth; And hence our vain distinctions grow, And man to man becomes a foe.

That friendship to all nations due, And taught by reason to pursue, That love, which should the world combine, To country, why do we confine?

The Grecian sage[A] (old stories say) When question'd where his country lay, Inspired by heaven, made no reply, But rais'd his finger to the sky.

[A] Anaxagoras.--_Freneau's note._

No region has, on earth, been known But some, of choice, have made their own:-- Your tears are not from Reason's source If choice a.s.sumes the path of force.

"Alas! (you cry) that is not all: "My former friendships I recall, "My house, my farm, my days, my nights, "Scenes vanish'd now, and past delights."--

Distance for absence you mistake-- Here, days and nights their circuits make: Here, Nature walks her beauteous round, And friendship may--perhaps--be found.

If times grow dark, or wealth retires, Let Reason check your proud desires: Virtue the humblest garb can wear, And loss of wealth is loss of care.