The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume III Part 32

A parchment, Caveto, hung up in his hall Which cautioned the reader to read and attend, That for one pound ten he would quibble and brawl, Twist, lie, and do all things a cause to defend.

Sometimes when the limits of lots were disputed He would put all to rights in the turn of a straw; From the tenth of an inch he his pocket recruited Till he made the two parties curse lawyer and law.

Thus matters went on, and the lawyer grown rich Fed high, and swilled wine 'till the dropsy began To bloat up his guts to so monstrous a pitch, You would hardly have known him to be the same man.

At last he departed, and when he had died, His worship arriving at Beelzebub's den; How much is the entrance (demanded the guide?--) Old Devil made answer, 'Tis One Pound Ten.

[150] First published in the _Time-Piece_, December 13, 1797. Text from the 1809 edition.

ON A CELEBRATED PERFORMER ON THE VIOLIN[151]

Who, as it was said, went out, in the year 1797, to excite discontents and insurrections in the western country, particularly, in Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee

Musician of the west! whose vast design Schemes our new states with England to combine; How vain the hope, with violin and bow, Such feeble arms, to work internal wo!

How weak the attempt our union to divide With not a sword or pistol at your side!

Not even a drum your engineer employs:-- He's right--a drum would blast the plot, by noise: All must be done in midnight silence, all Your plans must ripen or your projects fall.

Unknown, unseen, till in the destined hour Descends the stroke of trans-atlantic power!

By music's note to sway the western wild Indeed is new;--we heard it and we smiled.

In cold December's iron-hearted reign Would you with blushing blossoms deck the plain; Would you with sound immure the Thirteen Stars, Or plant a garland on the front of Mars?

To sound, not sense, once brutes, they say, advanced, When Orpheus whistled, fauns and satyrs danced-- You are no Orpheus--and it may be true He play'd some tunes that are unknown to you.

Hopes, such as yours, on cat-gut who would place; On tenor, treble, counter, or the ba.s.s:

Who arm'd with horse-hair, hopes a world to win Who gains dominion from a violin?

Such if there was, in times, the lord knows when, He must have been at least the first of men-- But now--the world would have not much to prize In such a warfare where no soldier dies: Thus would it say--by sad experience taught, 'Oh! may we never fight as these have fought!

'These to the charge with Thespian arms advanced, 'And when they should have fought, the soldiers danced; 'They had no drums, they felt no martial flame, 'But, cold as Christmas, to the conflict came!'

My dreams present you thrumming on your string Playing at proper stands, G.o.d save the king!

I see you march, a pedlar with his pack, And that poor fiddle swung athwart your back, (Like Reynard from some hen-roost hurrying home With plunder'd poultry for the feast to come) Trudging the wilds, on bold adventures bent, The woods at once your coverlet and tent, To fierce rebellions our back-woods to call-- The attempt how mighty! and the means how small.

Amphion once, the cla.s.sic stories say, When on his organ he began to play, So soft, so sweet, so melting were his tunes That even the savage rocks danced rigadoons, The trees, themselves, with frantic pa.s.sions fired Leap'd from their roots and every note admired: Quitting the spot, where many a year they grew Quick to the music sprung the enchanted crew, Form'd o'er his head a sun-repelling power And bow'd their shadowy heads to music's power.

If what, this moment, some relate be true Still greater wonders are reserved for you.

Your music, far, all Amphion's art exceeds, Not trees and rocks, but provinces it leads.

All Alleghany capers to the sound, And southward moves to meet the iberian bound; Kentucky hears the soul-enlivening notes And on the artist and his music doats; Remote Sanduskie spreads her eager wings, And wild Miami with the concert rings; Tiptoe, for flight, stands every hill and tree From Huron's sh.o.r.es to savage Tennessee; Arthur St. Clair might soon its influence feel; But Arthur knows no music--but of steel: Arthur St. Clair attends, with listening ears, And when the purpose of your march appears, Such music only will excite his rage, He'll come, and drive you from your dancing stage; Cut every string, the bridge, and sound-board seize, By your own cat-gut hang you to the trees, And bid you know, too late, It is no jest To play rebellion's music to the west.

[151] From the edition of 1815.

NEW YEAR'S VERSES[152]

The Carrier of the Time-Piece, presents the following Address to His Patrons, with the Compliments of the Season

Fellow Citizens:

The gla.s.s has run--see ninety-seven has fled, And ninety-eight comes on with equal speed; While safe from harm, beneath their spreading vine, Columbia's sons in virtuous actions shine: Their generous contributions feed the poor, And sends them smiling from their patron's door;

Sweet Peace and Plenty crowns the festive board, Where man reveres no domineering lord; But free from scenes of desolating war, Where kingdoms clash and mighty empires jar, He lives secure from all the dread alarms Of fell invaders and the din of arms:-- Such scenes now past have once defil'd our sh.o.r.e And drench'd Columbia in her children's gore, Let man exult, the raging storm is o'er.

To you, my customers, I bring the news Of feuds domestic and of foreign woes; Of Liberty extending her domain, And Truth triumphant in her glorious reign.

Consider, patrons through the storm and snow With constant care I am oblig'd to go; Shivering and cold, I want the lively cup To cheer my heart and keep my spirits up: To stern winter's gloom can joy inspire; Now social circles grace the Hickory fire; And on your board, for friends and neighbors spread, The turkey smokes the industrious peasant fed: But not to me these blessings are dispos'd, Fortune's capricious hand to me is clos'd; I am condemn'd to labour long and hard, Unknown my troubles, scanty my reward.

Such is the humble German's life of toil, Who now solicits your approving smile; My grateful heart still let your bounty share, And Peace and Freedom reign from year to year.

_New-York, January 1, 1798._

[152] This was published as a broadside, and distributed with the paper.

As far as I can discover Freneau never reprinted it.

PART V

THE FINAL PERIOD OF WANDERING

1798-1809

THE FINAL PERIOD OF WANDERING

1798-1809[153]

ON ARRIVING IN SOUTH CAROLINA, 1798[154]

A happy gale presents, once more, The gay and ever verdant sh.o.r.e, Which every pleasure will restore To those who come again: You, Carolina, from the seas Emerging, claim all power to please, Emerge with elegance and ease From Neptune's briny main.

To find in you a happier home, Retirement for the days to come, From northern coasts you saw me roam, By flattering fancy moved: I came, and in your fragrant woods, Your magic isles and gay abodes, In rural haunts and pa.s.sing floods Review'd the scenes I loved,

When sailing oft, from year to year And leaving all I counted dear, I found the happy country here Where manly hearts abound; Where friendship's kind extended hand, All social, leads a generous band; Where heroes, who redeem'd the land Still live to be renown'd:

Who live to fill the trump of fame, Or, dying, left the honor'd name Which Athens had been proud to claim From her historian's page-- These with invading thousands strove, These bade the foe their prowess prove, And from their old dominions drove The tyrants of the age.