The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume III Part 20

Since heaven in rapture doth their hours employ-- If empty sighs, or groans, could reach them there, These funeral howls would damp their heaven of joy, Would make them wretched, and renew their care.

The joys of wine, immortal as my theme, To days of mirth the aspiring soul invite: Life, void of this, a punishment I deem, A Greenland winter, robbed of heat and light.

Ah! envy not, ye sages too precise, The drop from life's gay tree, that kills our woe-- Noah himself, the wary and the wise, A vineyard planted--and the vines did grow.

(Of social soul was he)--the grape he pressed, And drank the juice, oblivious to his care: Sorrow he banished from his place of rest, And sighs, and s.e.xtons, had no business there.

Such bliss be our's through every changing scene: The jovial face bespeaks the glowing heart; If heaven be joy, wine is to heaven a-kin, Since wine, on earth, can heavenly joys impart.

Mere glow-worms are we all--a moment shine!-- I, like the rest, in giddy circles run, And grief shall say, when I this breath resign, His gla.s.s is empty, and his sermon done!

[89] Freneau seems deliberately to have manufactured this poem for his edition of 1795 from fragments of his discarded poems, the _House of Night_ and the _Jamaica Funeral_. It is made up as follows: _Jamaica Funeral_, stanzas 44-46; _House of Night_ 73, 132-134, 139; _Jamaica Funeral_ 47; _House of Night_ 76, 77; an original stanza; _House of Night_ 48, 34, 116, 30, 43; _Jamaica Funeral_ 34, 35, 40, 48-51. Many of these stanzas are much changed. Text from the 1809 edition.

ON A LEGISLATIVE ACT[90]

Prohibiting the use of Spirituous Liquors to Prisoners in certain Jails of the United States

Give to the wretched, drink that's strong, (Said David's Son) but we, more wise, With Cyder, from the hogshead, rough, Mola.s.ses-Beer, and such dull stuff, The miseries of the imprison'd host prolong.

"Shut up in jail from day to day (Methinks I hear a Debtor say) "Victims to public rage and private spite, "All that we had to keep our spirits up "Was glowing wine that fill'd the cheering cup, "This banish'd care, and check'd the rising sigh "Chac'd grief from every heart, gave joy to every eye.

"And will ye not this only comfort leave, "Ye men that frame the public laws?-- "Parted from children, friends, and wives, "How heavily the moments roll: "What comfort have we of our lives "If you deny this cordial of the soul?

"'Tis this that kills the tedious hour, "Puts misery out of fortune's power.

"'Tis this that to the dial's hand lends wings, "Gives to the beggar all the pride of kings, "Sheds joy throughout our gloomy cage "And bids us scorn the little tyrant's rage,

"They that are unconfin'd drink what they will-- "Who gave the right to limit men in jail?

"Because misfortune sent us here "Must we for that be drench'd with 'table beer,'

"Or, in its stead, with Adam's ale?-- "Relent--relent! contrive some other plan; "Wine is the dearest, choicest friend of man-- "They that are out of jail, of all degrees, "Can spend their leisure as they please, "We, that are in, must pa.s.s it as we can."

[90] Unique in the 1795 edition.

ADDRESSED[91]

To a Political Shrimp, or, Fly upon the Wheel

The man that doth an Elephant pursue Whose capture gains a mighty price, Amidst the chace, heeds not the barking crew, Or lesser game of rats and mice.

On ocean's waste who chace the royal flag Stop not to take the privateer; Who mean to seize the steed, neglect the nag; No squirrel-hunter kills a deer.

Reptile! your venom ever spits in vain-- To honour's coat no drop adheres:-- To court!--return to Britain's tyrant reign, White-wash her king, and scowr her peers.

Some scheming knaves, that strut in courtly guise, May vile abuse, through you, impart-- But they that on no Treasury lean, despise Your venal pen--your canker'd heart.

[91] The only trace I can find of this poem is in the 1795 edition. From the last stanza it is evident that it was aimed at Hamilton.

HERMIT'S VALLEY[92]

With eastern[93] winds and flowing sail To these sequestered haunts we came, Where verdant trees and chrystal streams Adorn the sloping, winding vale; Where, from the breezy grove we claim, Our heaven on earth--poetic dreams.

These simple scenes have pleasures more Than all the busy town can show-- More pleasure here Philanthus took, And more he prized this lonely sh.o.r.e, His pen, his pencil, and his book, Than all the groves Madeira bore:

Here still is seen a hermit's cell, Who, fond the haunts of men to fly, Enjoyed his heaven beneath this shade: In mouldering caves so blest to dwell, He sought not from the flowers that die, A verdure, that would never fade.

To crowded courts and would-be kings, Where fawning knaves are most caressed, Who would, though oft' invited, go-- When here so many charming things By Nature to perfection dressed, To please the man of fancy, grow?

The native of this happy spot No cares of vain ambition haunt: Pleased with the partner of his nest, Life flows--and when the dream is out, The earth, which once supplied each want, Receives him--fainting--to her breast.

[92] The earliest trace I can find of this is in the 1795 edition. Text from the 1809 edition. In the table of contents of the latter edition the t.i.tle is given, "Hermit's Valley, a rural scene on the Schuylkill."

[93] "Western."--_Ed. 1795._

TO MY BOOK[94]

Unhappy Volume!--doom'd by fate To meet with unrelenting hate From those who can their venom spit, Yet condescend to steal your wit: While Shylock with malicious spirit, Allows you not a grain of merit, While he an idle pomp a.s.sumes, Let him return his borrowed plumes, And you will find the insect creeping, With not a feather worth the keeping.

[94] This appeared originally as a part of the "New Year's Verses" for 1783. See Volume II, page 199, supra. Text from the 1795 edition, which is the "unhappy volume" alluded to.

THE REPUBLICAN GENIUS OF EUROPE[95]

Emperors and kings! in vain you strive Your torments to conceal-- The age is come that shakes your thrones, Tramples in dust despotic crowns, And bids the sceptre fail.

In western worlds the flame began: From thence to France it flew-- Through Europe, now, it takes its way, Beams an insufferable day, And lays all tyrants low.

Genius of France! pursue the chace Till Reason's laws restore Man to be Man, in every clime;-- That Being, active, great, sublime Debas'd in dust no more.