The Poems of Philip Freneau - novelonlinefull.com
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No pleasant fruit or blossom gaily smil'd, Nought but unhappy plants or trees were seen, The yew, the myrtle, and the church-yard elm, 55 The cypress, with its melancholy green.
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There cedars dark, the osier, and the pine, Shorn tamarisks, and weeping willows grew, The poplar tall, the lotos, and the lime, And pyracantha did her leaves renew. 60
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The poppy there, companion to repose, Display'd her blossoms that began to fall, And here the purple amaranthus rose With mint strong-scented, for the funeral.
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And here and there with laurel shrubs between 65 A tombstone lay, inscrib'd with strains of woe, And stanzas sad, throughout the dismal green, Lamented for the dead that slept below.
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Peace to this awful dome!--when strait I heard The voice of men in a secluded room, 70 Much did they talk of death, and much of life, Of coffins, shrouds, and horrors of a tomb.
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Pathetic were their words, and well they aim'd To explain the mystic paths of providence, Learn'd were they all, but there remain'd not I 75 To hear the upshot of their conference.
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Meantime from an adjoining chamber came Confused murmurings, half distinguish'd sounds, And as I nearer drew, disputes arose Of surgery, and remedies for wounds. 80
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Dull were their feuds, for they went on to talk Of _Anchylosis_,[B] and the shoulder blade, _Os Femoris_,[B] _Trochanters_[B]--and whate'er Has been discuss'd by Cheselden or Meade:
[B] _Anchylosis_--a morbid contraction of the joints.
_Os Femoris_--the thigh bone. _Trochanters_--two processes in the upper part of the thigh bone, otherwise called _rotator major et minor_, in which the tendons of many muscles terminate.--_Freneau's notes._
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And often each, to prove his notion true, 85 Brought proofs from Galen or Hippocrates-- But fancy led me hence--and left them so, Firm at their points of hardy No and Yes.
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Then up three winding stairs my feet were brought To a high chamber, hung with mourning sad, 90 The unsnuff'd candles glar'd with visage dim, 'Midst grief, in ecstacy of woe run mad.
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A wide leaf'd table stood on either side, Well fraught with phials, half their liquids spent, And from a couch, behind the curtain's veil, 95 I heard a hollow voice of loud lament.
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Turning to view the object whence it came, My frighted eyes a horrid form survey'd; Fancy, I own thy power--Death on the couch, With fleshless limbs, at rueful length, was laid. 100
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And o'er his head flew jealousies and cares, Ghosts, imps, and half the black Tartarian crew, Arch-angels d.a.m.n'd, nor was their Prince remote, Borne on the vaporous wings of Stygian dew.
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Around his bed, by the dull flambeaux' glare, 105 I saw pale phantoms--Rage to madness vext, Wan, wasting grief, and ever musing care, Distressful pain, and poverty perplext.
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Sad was his countenance, if we can call That countenance, where only bones were seen 110 And eyes sunk in their sockets, dark and low, And teeth, that only show'd themselves to grin.
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Reft was his scull of hair, and no fresh bloom Of chearful mirth sate on his visage h.o.a.r: Sometimes he rais'd his head, while deep-drawn groans 115 Were mixt with words that did his fate deplore.
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Oft did he wish to see the daylight spring, And often toward the window lean'd to hear, Fore-runner of the scarlet-mantled morn, The early note of wakeful Chanticleer. 120
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Thus he--But at my hand a portly youth Of comely countenance, began to tell, "That this was Death upon his dying bed, "Sullen, morose, and peevish to be well;
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"Fixt is his doom--the miscreant reigns no more 125 "The tyrant of the dying or the dead; "This night concludes his all-consuming reign, "Pour out, ye heav'ns, your vengeance on his head.
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"But since, my friend (said he), chance leads you here, "With me this night upon the sick attend, 130 "You on this bed of death must watch, and I "Will not be distant from the fretful fiend.
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"Before he made this lofty pile his home, "In undisturb'd repose I sweetly slept, "But when he came to this sequester'd dome, 135 "'Twas then my troubles came, and then I wept:
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"Twice three long nights, in this sad chamber, I, "As though a brother languish'd in despair, "Have 'tended faithful round his gloomy bed, "Have been content to breathe this loathsome air. 140
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"A while relieve the languors that I feel, "Sleep's magic forces close my weary eyes; "Soft o'er my soul unwonted slumbers steal, "Aid the weak patient till you see me rise.
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"But let no slumbers on your eye-lids fall, 145 "That if he ask for powder or for pill "You may be ready at the word to start, "And still seem anxious to perform his will.