The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume I Part 27

What is their plea?--our sovereign only meant This people should be taxed without consent, Ten years the court with secret cunning tried To gain this point--the event their hopes belied: How should they else than sometimes miss the mark Who sleep at helm, yet think to steer the barque?

North, take advice; thy lucky genius show, Dispatch Sir Jeffery[B] to the states below.

That gloomy prince, whom mortals Satan call,[80]

Must help us quickly, if he help at all-- You strive in vain by force of bribes to tie; They see through all your schemes with half an eye; If open force with secret bribes I join, The contest sickens--and the day is mine.

But hark the trumpet's clangor--hark--ah me!

What means this march of Washington and Lee?

When men like these such distant marches make, Fate whispers something--that we can't mistake;[81]

When men like these defy my martial rule, Good heaven! it is no time to play the fool-- Perhaps, they for their country's freedom rise; North has, perhaps, deceived me with his lies.-- If George at last a tyrant should be found, A cruel tyrant, by no sanctions bound, And I, myself, in an unrighteous cause, Be sent to execute the worst of laws, How will those dead whom I conjured to fight-- Who sunk in arms to everlasting night, Whose blood the conquering foe conspired to spill At Lexington and Bunker's fatal hill, Whose mangled corpses scanty graves embrace-- Rise from those graves, and curse me to my face!-- Alas! that e'er ambition bade me roam, Or thirst of power, forsake my native home-- What shall I do?--there, crowd the hostile bands; Here, waits a navy to receive commands;-- I speak the language of my heart--shall I Steal off by night, and o'er the ocean fly, Like a lost man to unknown regions stray, And to oblivion leave this stormy day?--[82]

Or shall I to Britannia's sh.o.r.es again, And big with lies, conceal my thousands slain?-- Yes--to some distant clime[83] my course I steer, To any country rather than be here, To worlds where reason scarce exerts her law,[84]

A branch-built cottage, and a bed of straw.-- Even Scotland's coast seems charming in my sight, And frozen Zembla yields a strange delight.-- But such vexations in my bosom burn, That to these sh.o.r.es I never will return, 'Till fruits and flowers on Greenland's coast be known, And frosts are thawed in climates once their own.

Ye souls of fire, who burn for chief command, Come! take my place in this disastrous land; To wars like these I bid a long good-night-- Let North and George themselves such battles fight.

[A] Georgia had not at this time acceded to the Union of the Thirteen States.--_Freneau's note._

[B] Sir Jeffery Amherst, who about this time refused to act against the Colonial cause.--_Freneau's note._

[70] From the edition of 1809. The original edition, which consisted of 114 lines, was first published in New York, by H. Gaine, in August, 1775. The poem was thus written and published in the early days of the siege.

General Gage, the last royal governor of Ma.s.sachusetts, arrived in Boston May, 1774, and remained until October, 1775, when he was succeeded by Major General Howe. The siege of Boston began with the arrival of Washington before the city, early in July, 1775, and continued until Howe was forced to evacuate the city, the following March. Gage's incompetency was admitted even by his own countrymen. He was narrow-minded, and prejudiced, and unable to estimate justly the forces that were against him. His only argument was force and dictatorial interference.

[71] This and the following line not in edition of 1775.

[72] To fight for Britons against Englishmen.--_Ed. 1775._

In such d.a.m.n'd service to hara.s.s my brain.--_Ed. 1786._

[73] Four lines of the original edition omitted:

"North take advice, thy lucky genius show, Dismiss a legate to the world below, Sir Belzebub, for aid like thine we sue, Send up the d.a.m.ned and let them help me too."

[74]

A life like mine is of such mighty worth, I'll wrong my king if I should sally forth.

[75] This and the following line is not in edition of 1775.

[76] Some trophy of my tedious victory.--_Ed. 1775._

[77] The Lordship of a manor I would scorn.--_Ed. 1775._

[78] In place of the next eight lines, the edition of 1775 has the following:

"Let heaven's broad concave to the center ring, And Imps from h.e.l.l their swifter vengeance wing; May heaven, if so the righteous judgment pa.s.s, Change earth to steel, the sky to solid bra.s.s."

[79] Let h.e.l.l-cats darting from some blackguard sphere.--_Ed. 1786._

[80] This and the four following lines not found in the edition of 1775.

[81] It shows they think their freedom lies at stake.--_Ed. 1775._

[82] In the original edition these two lines read as follows:

"Like Captain Cook to Southern islands stray, And take new kings and kingdoms in my way."

[83] "Foreign clime."--_Ed. 1775._ "Negro clime."--_Ed. 1786._

[84] This line, and the nine following, are not found in the edition of 1775.

THE MIDNIGHT CONSULTATIONS;[85]

OR, A TRIP TO BOSTON

First published in 1775

Small bliss is theirs whom Fate's too heavy hand Confines through life to some small square of land; More wretched they whom heaven inspires to roam, Yet languish out their lives and die at home.

Heaven gave to man this wide extended round, 5 No climes confine him and no oceans bound; Heaven gave him forest, mountain, vale, and plain, And bade him vanquish, if he could, the main; But sordid cares our short-lived race confine, Some toil at trades, some labour in the mine, 10 The miser h.o.a.rds, and guards his shining store, The sun still rises where he rose before-- No happier scenes his earth-born fancy fill Than one dark valley, or one well-known hill.

To other sh.o.r.es his mind, untaught to stray, 15 Dull and inactive, slumbers life away.

But by the aid of yonder glimmering beam The pole star, faithful to my vagrant dream, Wild regent of my heart! in dreams convey Where the herded Britons their bold ranks display; 20 So late the pride of England's fertile soil, (Her grandeur heightened by successive toil) See how they sicken in these hostile climes, Themes for the stage, and subjects for our rhimes.

What modern poet have the muses led 25 To draw the curtain that conceals the dead?

What bolder bard to Boston shall repair, To view the peevish, half-starved spectres there?

O thou wronged country! why sustain these ills?

Why rest thy navies on their native hills? 30 See, endless forests shade the uncultured plain, Descend, ye forests, and command the main: A leafy verdure shades the mighty mast, And the tall oak bends idly to the blast, Earth's entrails teem with stores for your defence, 35 Descend and drag the stores of war from thence: Your fertile soil the flowing sail supplies, And Europe's arts in every village rise-- No want is yours--Disdain unmanly fear, And swear no tyrant shall reign master here; 40 Know your own strength--in rocky desarts bred, Shall the fierce tiger by the dog be led, And bear all insults from that snarling race Whose courage lies in impudence of face?-- No--rather bid the wood's wild native turn, 45 And from his side the unfaithful guardian spurn.

Now, pleased I wander to the dome of state Where Gage resides, our western potentate-- Chief of ten thousand, all a race of slaves,[86]

Sent to be shrouded in untimely graves;[87] 50 Sent by our angry Jove, sent sword in hand To murder, burn, and ravage through the land.-- You dream of conquest--tell me how or whence-- Act like a man, and get you gone from hence; A madman sent you to this hostile sh.o.r.e 55 To vanquish nations, that shall spill your gore.-- Go, fiends, and in a social league combined Destroy, distress, and triumph o'er mankind!-- Tis not our peace this murdering hand restrains, The want of power is made the monster's chains; 60 Compa.s.sion is a stranger to his heart, Or if it came, he bade the guest depart; The melting tear, the sympathising groan Were never yet to Gage or Jefferies[A] known; The seas of blood his heart fore-dooms to spill 65 Is but a dying serpent's rage to kill.

What power shall drive these vipers from our sh.o.r.e, These monsters swoln with carnage, death, and gore!

Twelve was the hour--congenial darkness reigned, And no bright star a mimic day-light feigned-- 70 First, Gage we saw--a crimson chair of state Received the honour of his Honour's weight; This man of straw the regal purple bound, But dullness, deepest dullness, hovered round.

Next Graves, who wields the trident of the brine, 75 The tall arch-captain of the embattled line, All gloomy sate--mumbling of flame and fire, b.a.l.l.s, cannon, ships, and all their d.a.m.ned attire; Well pleased to live in never-ending hum, But empty as the interior of his drum. 80 Hard by, Burgoyne a.s.sumes an ample s.p.a.ce, And seemed to meditate with studious face, As if again he wished our world to see Long, dull, dry letters, writ to General Lee-- Huge scrawls of words through endless circuits drawn 85 Unmeaning as the errand he's upon.-- Is he to conquer--he subdue our land?-- This buckram hero, with his lady's hand?

By Cesars to be vanquished is a curse, But by a scribbling fop--by heaven, is worse![88] 90 Lord Piercy seemed to snore--but may the Muse This ill-timed snoring to the peer excuse; Tired was the long boy of his toilsome day, Full fifteen miles he fled--a tedious way; How could he then the dews of Somnus shun, 95 Perhaps not used to walk--much less to run.

Red-faced as suns, when sinking to repose, Reclined the infernal captain of the _Rose_,[B]

In fame's proud temple aiming for a niche, With those who find her at the cannon's breech; 100 Skilled to direct the cannonading shot, No Turkish rover half so murdering hot, Pleased with base vengeance on defenceless towns, His heart was malice--but his words were, Zounds!

Howe, vexed to see his starving army's doom, 105 In prayer, besought the skies for elbow room--[89]

Small was his stock, and theirs, of heavenly grace, Yet just enough to ask a larger place.-- He cursed the brainless minister that planned His bootless errand to this hostile land, 110 But, awed by Gage, his bursting wrath recoiled, And in his inmost bosom doubly boiled.

These, chief of all the tyrant-serving train, Exalted sate--the rest (a pensioned clan), A sample of the mult.i.tude that wait, 115 Pale sons of famine, at perdition's gate, North's friends down swarming (so our monarch wills), Hungry as death, from Caledonian hills; Whose endless numbers if you bid me tell, I'll count the atoms of this globe as well,-- 120 Knights, captains, 'squires--a wonder-working band, Held at small wages 'till they gain the land, Flocked pensive round--black spleen a.s.sailed their hearts, (The sport of plough-boys, with their arms and arts) And made them doubt (howe'er for vengeance hot) 125 Whether they were invincible or not.

Now Gage upstarting from his cushioned seat Swore thrice, and cried--"'Tis nonsense to be beat!

Thus to be drubbed! pray, warriors, let me know Which be in fault, myself, the fates, or you-- 130 Henceforth let Britain deem her men mere toys-- G.o.ds! to be frightened thus by country boys; Why, if your men had had a mind to sup, They might have eat that scare-crow[90] army up-- Three thousand to twelve hundred thus to yield, 135 And twice five hundred stretched upon the field!--[91]

O shame to Britain, and the British name, Shame damps my heart, and I must die with shame-- Thus to be worsted, thus disgraced and beat!-- You have the knack, Lord Piercy,[92] to retreat, 140 The death you escaped my warmest blood congeals, Heaven grant me, too, so swift a pair of heels--[93]

In Chevy-Chace, as, doubtless, you have read, Lord Piercy would have sooner died than fled-- Behold the virtues of your house decay-- 145 Ah! how unlike the Piercy of that day!"

Thus spoke the great man in disdainful tone To the gay peer--not meant for him alone-- But ere the tumults of his bosom rise Thus from his bench the intrepid peer replies: 150 "When once the soul has reached the Stygian sh.o.r.e, My prayer book says, it shall return no more-- When once old Charon hoists his tar-blacked sail, And his boat swims before the infernal gale, Farewell to all that pleased the man above, 155 Farewell to feats of arms, and joys of love!

Farewell the trade that father Cain began, Farewell to wine, that cheers the heart of man; All, all farewell!--the pensive shade must go Where cold Medusa turns to stone below, 160 Where Belus' maids eternal labours ply To drench the cask that stays forever dry, And Sysiphus, with many a weary groan, Heaves up the mount the still recoiling stone!

"Since, then, this truth no mortal dares deny, 165 That heroes, kings--and lords, themselves, must die, And yield to him who dreads no hostile sword, But treats alike the peasant and the lord; Since even great George must in his turn give place And leave his crown, his Scotchmen, and his lace,-- 170 How blest is he, how prudent is the man Who keeps aloof from fate--while yet he can; One well-aimed ball can make us all no more Than shipwrecked scoundrels on that leeward sh.o.r.e.

"But why, my friends, these hard reflections still 175 On Lexington affairs--'tis Bunker's hill-- O fatal hill!--one glance at thee restrains My once warm blood, and chills it in my veins-- May no sweet gra.s.s adorn thy hateful crest That saw Britannia's bravest troops distrest-- 180 Or if it does--may some destructive gale The green leaf wither, and the gra.s.s turn pale-- All moisture to your brow may heaven deny, And G.o.d and man detest you, just as I;-- 'Tis Bunker's hill, this night has brought us here, 185 Pray question him who led your armies there, Nor dare my courage into question call, Or blame Lord Piercy for the fault of all."

Howe chanced to nod while heathenish Piercy spoke, But as his Lordship ceased, his Honour awoke, 190 (Like those whom sermons into sleep betray) Then rubbed his eyes, and thus was heard to say: "Shall those who never ventured from the town, Or their ships' sides, now pull our glory down?

We fought our best--so G.o.d my honour save!-- 195 No British soldiers ever fought so brave-- Resolved I led them to the hostile lines, (From this day famed where'er great Phoebus shines) Firm at their head I took my dangerous stand, Marching to death and slaughter, sword in hand, 200 But wonted Fortune halted on her way, We fought with madmen, and we lost the day-- Putnam's brave troops, your honours would have swore Had robbed the clouds of half their nitrous store, With my bold veterans strewed the astonished plain, 205 For not one musquet was discharged in vain.-- But, honoured Gage, why droops thy laurelled head?-- Five hundred foes we packed off to the dead.--[94]

Now captains, generals, hear me and attend!

Say, shall we home for other succours send? 210 Shall other navies cross the stormy main?-- They may, but what shall awe the pride of Spain?