The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 1 (of 3)

[B] William Smyth, Esq. Before the Revolution a celebrated lawyer in New York, author of the History of New Jersey, and other works. Afterwards, taking part with the British, he was made Chief Justice of Lower Canada – He is since dead. —Freneau's note.

[C] Passaick Village is at present called Patterson, noted for its unfortunate manufacturing establishments. —Freneau's note.

[D] William Franklin, Esq., then Governor of New Jersey. —Freneau's note.

[E] These two lines were inserted since the first publication of this Poem in Sept., 1775. —Freneau's note.

[F] They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought against Sisera. Ancient History. – Freneau's note.

At length, a dark fortnight of weather came on,And most of us thought it high time to be gone. —The moon was eclipsed, and she looked like a fright;Indeed – and it was a disconsolate night!Our purses were empty – the landlord looked sour,I gave them leg-bail in a terrible shower: —Scalpella! – her face was as black as the moon,Her voice, was the screech of a harpy, or loon, —I quitted Passaick – that elegant place,While a hurricane hindered them giving me chace.

PART II

THE FIRST POETIC PERIOD

1775-178160

A POLITICAL LITANY61

Libera Nos, Domine.– Deliver us, O Lord, not only from British dependence, but alsoFrom a junto that labour with absolute power,Whose schemes disappointed have made them look sour,From the lords of the council, who fight against freedom,Who still follow on where delusion62 shall lead them.From the group at St. James's, who slight our petitions,And fools that are waiting for further submissions —From a nation whose manners are rough and severe,From scoundrels and rascals, – do keep us all clear.63From pirates sent out by command of the kingTo murder and plunder, but never to swing.From Wallace and Greaves, and Vipers and Roses,[A]Whom, if heaven pleases, we'll give bloody noses.

[A] Captains and ships in the British navy, then employed on the American coast. —Freneau's note. During the summer of 1775, Capt. Wallace and his vessel, the Rose, kept the American coast cities in a state of constant terror. The colonial newspapers show how widespread and real was this terror.

From the valiant Dunmore, with his crew of banditti,Who plunder Virginians at Williamsburg city,64From hot-headed Montague, mighty to swear,The little fat man with his pretty white hair.65From bishops in Britain, who butchers are grown,From slaves that would die for a smile from the throne,From assemblies that vote against Congress proceedings,(Who now see the fruit of their stupid misleadings.)From Tryon66 the mighty, who flies from our city,And swelled with importance disdains the committee:(But since he is pleased to proclaim us his foes,What the devil care we where the devil he goes.)From the caitiff,67 lord North, who would bind us in chains,From a royal king Log, with his tooth-full of brains,Who dreams, and is certain (when taking a nap)He has conquered our lands, as they lay on his map.68From a kingdom that bullies, and hectors, and swears,We send up to heaven our wishes and prayersThat we, disunited, may freemen be still,And Britain go on – to be damned if she will.

AMERICAN LIBERTY, A POEM69

Argument

Present Situation of Affairs in North-America. – Address to the Deity. – Unhappy Situation of New-England, in particular. – The first Emigrations of the Colonists from Europe. – Cruelties of the Indian Natives. – All our Hopes of future Safety depend secondarily on our present Resolution and Activity. – Impossible for British Soldiers to join heartily for the purpose of enslaving us. – Present happy Unanimity among the Colonies. – The Baseness of pensioned Writers against their native Country. – General Gage's late Proclamation. – The Odium consequent upon his Undertaking his present Office. – Character of a weak Monarch. – Popery established in Canada. – General Washington. – The Honourable Continental Congress. – Hancock. – Adams. – Invitation to Foreigners to retire hither from their respective Slavish Regions. – Bravery of the New-England Forces in the late Engagements. – The determined Resolution of the Colonies to be free. – The future Happiness of America if she surmounts the present Difficulties.

Once more Bellona, forc'd upon the stage,Inspires new fury, and awakes her rage,From North to South her thun'dring trumpet spreadsTumults, and war and death, and daring deeds.What breast but kindles at the martial sound?What heart but bleeds to feel its country's wound?For thee, blest freedom, to protect thy sway,We rush undaunted to the bloody fray;For thee, each province arms its vig'rous host,Content to die, e'er freedom shall be lost.Kind watchful power, on whose supreme commandThe fate of monarchs, empires, worlds depend,Grant, in a cause thy wisdom must approve,Undaunted valour kindled from above,Let not our souls descend to dastard fear,Be valour, prudence both united here,Now as of old thy mighty arm display;Relieve the opprest, and saving power convey.'Tis done, and see th' omnipotent befriends,The sword of Gideon, and of God descends.Ah, see with grief fair Massachusetts' plains,The seat of war, and death's terrific scenes;Where darling peace with smiling aspect stood,Lo! the grim soldier stalks in quest of blood:What madness, heaven, has made Britannia frown?Who plans our schemes to pull Columbia[A] down?See Boston groan beneath the strong blockade,Her freedom vanish'd, and destroy'd her trade;Injur'd, opprest, no tyrant could exceedThe cruel vengeance of so base a deed.New Albion's[B] sons whom honest freedom moves,(My heart admires them, and my verse approves),Tir'd of oppression in a Stuart's reign,A Popish faction, ministerial train;Bravely resolv'd to leave their native shoreAnd some new world, they knew not where, explore,Far in the West, beyond where Poets said,The Sun retir'd, and Cynthia went to bed.Few then had seen the scarce discover'd Bourne,From whence like death yet fewer did return:Dire truths from thence the wand'ring sailor brought,Enlarg'd by terror, and the power of thought,With all the forms that pict'ring fancy gives,With all the dread that in idea lives;Fierce Cannibals that sought the blood of man,Vast cruel tribes that through the desart ran,Giants whose height transcends the tow'ring oak,Brutes with whose screams the trembling forest shook, —All these and more they held no cause of fear,Since naught but slavery, dreadful could appear.Ah, see the day, distressful to the view,Wives, husbands, fathers, bid a long adieu.Dear native land, how heav'd the heavy sigh,When thy last mountains vanish'd on the eye;Then their frail barks, just enter'd on the sea,Pursu'd the long, uncomfortable way:But pitying heav'n the just design surveys,Sends prosp'rous gales, and wafts them o'er the seas.Behold the shore; no rising cities there,To hail them welcome from the sea appear,In the wild woods the exil'd host were spread,The heavens their covering, and the earth their bed:What expectations but a life of woe?Unnumber'd myriads of the savage foe,Whose brutal fury rais'd, at once might sweepThe adventurers all to death's destructive sleep;Yet 'midst this scene of horror and despair,Stout industry began his office here,Made forests bend beneath his sturdy stroke,Made oxen groan beneath the sweaty yoke,Till half the desart smil'd and look'd as gayAs northern gardens in the bloom of May.But ah, review the sorrows interwove,How the fierce native with the stranger strove; —So heaven's bright lamp, the all-reviving sun,Just as his flaming journey is begun,Mists, fogs and vapours, sprung from damps of night,Mount up and strive to dim the approach of light;But he in triumph darts his piercing ray,Scatters their forces and pursues his way.Oft when the husband did his labour leaveTo meet his little family at eve,Stretch'd in their blood he saw each well known face,His dear companion and his youthful race;Perhaps the scalp with barbarous fury torn,The visage mangled, and the babe unbornRipp'd from its dark abode, to view the sun,Ere nature finish'd half she had begun.And should we now when spread thro' ev'ry shore,Submit to that our fathers shunn'd before?Should we, just heaven, our blood and labour spent,Be slaves and minions to a parliament?Perish the thought, nor may one wretch remain,Who dares not fight and in our cause be slain;The cause of freedom daunts the hireling foe,And gives each Sampson's strength toward the blow,And each, like him whom fear nor force confines,Destroys a thousand modern Philistines.Who fights to take our liberty away,Dead-hearted fights and falls an easy prey;The cause, the cause, most cruel to enslave,Disheartens thousands, and unmans the brave:Who could have thought that Britons bore a heart,Or British troops to act so base a part?Britons of old renown'd, can they descendT' enslave their brethren in a foreign land?What oath, what oath, inform us if you can,Binds them to act below the worth of man?Can they whom half the world admires, can theyBe advocates for vile despotic sway?Shall they, to every shore and clime renown'd,Enforce those acts that tyranny did found?'Yet sure if this be their resolv'd design,'Conquer they shall where'er the sun doth shine;'No expedition prov'd unhappy yet,'Can we Havanna's bloody siege forget,70'Where British cannon the strong fortress tore,'And wing'd whole legions to its infernal shore.'Or does the voice of fame so soon forego'Gibraltar's action, and the vanquish'd foe,'Where art and nature both at once combin'd'To baffle all our hardy troops design'd? —'Yet there Britannia's arms successful sped,'While haughty Spaniards trembled, felt and fled.'So say the pensioned fools of slavery,So say our traitors, but so say not I —(Tories or traitors, call them what you choose,Tories are rogues, and traitors imps broke loose).But know, ye few, the scandal of our land,On whom returns the blood that we expend,Those troops whose fears are told on every shore,Here lose their spirit and are brave no more;When armies fight to gain some cruel cause,Establish tyrants or destructive laws,True courage scorns to inspire the hateful crew,Recall past fame, or spur them on to new;Dark boding thoughts the heavy soul possess,And ancient valour turns to cowardice.Dark was the prospect, gloomy was the scene,When traitors join'd to break our union chain:But soon, by heaven inspir'd, arose the cry,Freedom or death, unite, unite or die.Now far and wide a manly spirit reigns,From Canada to Georgia's sun burnt plains;Few now insult with falsehood's shameless pen.Monsters from Tophet, driv'n in shapes of men:Few pension'd scribblers left the daring head,Some have turn'd lunatics and some have fled —Some, late converted, scarce their pensions hold.And from mere force disdain the charms of gold.What deep offence has fir'd a monarch's rage,What moonstruck madness seized the brain of Gage?Laughs not the soul, when an imprison'd fewAffect to pardon those they can't subdue?Tho' twice repuls'd and hemm'd up to their stations,Yet issue pardons, oaths, and proclamations,As if at sea some desperate madman crewShould threat the tempest with what they could do,And like proud Xerxes lash the angry waves,At the same instant that they find their graves.But not the pomps and favours of a crown,A nation's anger, or a statesman's frown,Could draw the virtuous man from virtue's way,To chain by force what treach'ry can't betray.Virtue disdains to own tyrannic laws,Takes part with freedom, and assumes its cause;No part had she, her fiercest forces own,To bring so far this heavy vengeance on;She stood with Romans while their hearts were true,And so she shall, Americans, with you.Should heaven in wrath decree some nation's fall,Whose crimes from thence for sacred vengeance call,A monarch first of vulgar soul should rise,A sure fore-runner of its obsequies,Whose heart should glow with not one gen'rous thought,Born to oppress, to propagate, and rot.Whose lengthen'd reign no deed of worth should grace,None trusted but a servile pensioned race;Too dull to know what saving course to take,That heaven in time its purpose might forsake,Too obstinately will'd to bow his earTo groaning thousands or petitions hear,Dare break all oaths that bind the just like fate,Oaths, that th' Arch-Devil would blush to violate,And, foe to truth, both oaths and honour sell,To establish principles, the growth of hell, —Still those who aim to be his truest friends,Traitors, insidious rebels, madmen, fiends,Hoodwink'd and blind, deceived by secret foes,Whose fathers once with exil'd tyrants rose,Bless'd with as little sense as God e'er gave,Slave to wrong schemes, dupe to a noble knave.So odd a monarch heaven in wrath would plan,And such would be the fury of a man.See far and wide o'er long Canadia's plains,Old popish fraud and superstition reigns;The scarlet whore long hath heaven withstood,Who cries for murder and who thirsts for blood,Establish'd there, marks down each destined name,And plants the stake impatient for the flame,With sanguinary soul her trade begins,To doom her foes to hell or pardon sins;Her crafty priests their impious rites maintain,And crucify their Saviour once again;Defend his rights, who, scatt'ring lies abroad,With shameless front usurps the seat of God:Those are, we fear, who his vile cause assert,But half reform'd and papists at the heart.Bear me, some power, as far as the winds can blow,As ships can travel, or as waves can flow,To some lone island beyond the southern pole,Or lands round which pacific waters roll,There should oblivion stop the heaving sigh,There should I live at least with liberty.But honour checks my speed and bids me stay,To try the fortune of the well fought day.Resentment for my country's fate I bear,And mix with thousands for the willing war;See Washington New Albion's freedom owns,And moves to war with half Virginia's sons,Bold in the fight, whose actions might have aw'dA Roman Hero, or a Grecian God.He, he, as first his gallant troops shall lead,Undaunted man, a second Diomede;As when he fought at wild Ohio's flood,When savage thousands issu'd from the wood,When Braddock's fall disgrac'd the mighty day,And Death himself stood weeping o'er his prey,When doubting vict'ry chang'd from side to side,And Indian sod with Indian blood was dy'd,When the last charge repuls'd th' invenom'd foe,And lightnings lit them to the shades below.See where from various distant climes unitesA generous council to protect our rights,Fix'd on a base too steadfast to be mov'd,Loving their country, by their country lov'd,Great guardians of our freedom, we pursueEach patriot measure as inspir'd by you,Columbia, nor shall fame deny it owesPast safety to the counsel you propose;And if they do not keep Columbia free,What will alas! become of Liberty?Great souls grow bolder in their country's cause,Detest enslavers, and despise their laws.O Congress fam'd, accept this humble lay,The little tribute that the muse can pay;On you depends Columbia's future fate,A free asylum or a wretched state.Fall'n on disastrous times we push our plea,Heard or not heard, and struggle to be free.Born to contend, our lives we place at stake,And grow immortal by the stand we make.O you, who, far from liberty detain'd,Wear out existence in some slavish land,Fly thence from tyrants, and their flatt'ring throng,And bring the fiery freeborn soul along.Neptune for you shall smooth the hoary deep,And awe the wild tumultuous waves to sleep;Here vernal woods, and flow'ry meadows blow,Luxuriant harvests in rich plenty grow,Commerce extends as far as waves can roll,And freedom, God-like freedom, crowns the whole.And you, brave men, who scorn the dread of death,Resolv'd to conquer to the latest breath,Soldiers in act, and heroes in renown,Warm in the cause of Boston's hapless town,Still guard each pass; like ancient Romans, youAt once are soldiers, and are farmers too;Still arm impatient for the vengeful blow,And rush intrepid on the yielding foe;As when of late midst clouds of fire and smoke,Whole squadrons fell, or to the center shook,And even the bravest to your arm gave way,And death, exulting, ey'd the unhappy fray.Behold, your Warren bleeds, who both inspir'dTo noble deeds, and by his actions fir'd;What pity, heaven! – but you who yet remainAffect his spirit as you lov'd the man:Once more, and yet once more for freedom strive,To be a slave what wretch would dare to live?We too to the last drop our blood will drain,And not till then shall hated slavery reign,When every effort, every hope is o'er,And lost Columbia swells our breasts no more.O if that day, which heaven avert, must come,And fathers, husbands, children, meet their doom,Let one brave onset yet that doom precede,To shew the world America can bleed,One thund'ring raise the midnight cry,And one last flame send Boston to the sky.But cease, foreboding Muse, not strive to seeDark times deriv'd by fatal destiny;If ever heaven befriended the distrest,If ever valour succour'd those opprest,Let America rejoice, thy standard rear,Let the loud trumpet animate to war:Thy guardian Genius, haste thee on thy way,To strike whole hosts with terror and dismay.Happy some land, which all for freedom gave,Happier the men whom their own virtues save;Thrice happy we who long attacks have stood,And swam to Liberty thro' seas of blood;The time shall come when strangers rule no more,Nor cruel mandates vex from Britain's shore;When Commerce shall extend her short'ned wing,And her free freights from every climate bring;When mighty towns shall flourish free and great,Vast their dominion, opulent their state;When one vast cultivated region teems,From ocean's edge to Mississippi's streams;While each enjoys his vineyard's peaceful shade,And even the meanest has no cause to dread;Such is the life our foes with envy see,Such is the godlike glory to be free.

[A] Columbia, America sometimes so called from Columbus, the first discoverer. —Freneau's note.

[B] New Albion, properly New England, but is often applied to all British America. —Freneau's note.

GENERAL GAGE'S SOLILOQUY71

Scene.– Boston, besieged by the Men of MassachusettsWritten and published in New-York, 1775Why, let the stricken deer go weep,The hart, unwounded, play,For some must write, while some must speak;So runs the world away!– Shakespeare.Destruction waits my call! – some demon sayWhy does destruction linger on her way!Charlestown is burnt, and Warren is deceased —Heavens! shall we never be from war released?Ten years the Greeks besieged the walls of Troy,But when did Grecians their own towns destroy?Yes, that's the point! – Let those who will, say, No;If George and North decree – it must be so.Doubts, black as night, disturb my loved repose —Men that were once my friends have turned my foes —What if we conquer this rebellious town,Suppose we burn it, storm it, tear it down —This land's like Hydra, cut off but one head,And ten shall rise, and dare you in its stead.If to subdue a league or two of coastRequires a navy, and so large a host,How shall a length of twice seven hundred milesBe brought to bend to two European Isles? —And that, when all their utmost strength unite,When twelve[A] dominions swear to arm and fight,When the same spirit darts from every eye,One fixed resolve to gain their point or die.As for myself – true – I was born to fightAs George commands, let him be wrong or right,While from his hand I squeeze the golden prize,72I'll ask no questions, and he'll tell no lies; —But did I swear, I ask my heart again,In their base projects monarchs to maintain? —73Yes – when Rebellion her artillery bringsAnd aims her arrows at the best of kings,I stand a champion in my monarch's cause —The men are rebels that resist his laws.74A viceroy I, like modern monarchs, staySafe in the town – let others guide the fray:A life like mine is of no common worth,'Twere wrong, by heaven, that I should sally forth!75A random bullet from a rifle sentMight pierce my heart, and ruin North's intent:Let others combat in the dusty field,Let petty captains scorn to live or yield,I'll send my ships to neighbouring isles, where stray76Unnumb'red herds, and steal those herds away;I'll strike the women in this town with awe,And make them tremble at my martial law.Should gracious heaven befriend our troops and fleet,And throw this vast dominion at my feet,How would Britannia echo with my fame!What endless honours would await my name!In every province should the traveller seeRecording marble, raised to honour me. —77Hard by the lakes, my sovereign lord would grantA rural empire to supply my want,A manor would but poorly serve my turn,Less than an empire from my soul I scorn!78An ample kingdom round Ontario's lake,By heaven! should be the least reward I'd take.There might I reign, unrivalled and alone,An ocean and an empire of my own! —What though the scribblers and the wits might say,He built his pile on vanquished Liberty —Let others meanly dread the slanderous tongue,While I obey my king, can I do wrong?Then, to accomplish all my soul's desire,Let red-hot bullets set their towns on fire;May heaven, if so the righteous judgment pass,79Change earth to steel, the sky to solid brass,Let hosts combined, from Europe centering here,80Strike this base offspring with alarm and fear;Let heaven's broad concave to the center ring,And blackest night expand her sable wing,The infernal powers in dusky combat join,Wing the swift ball, or spring the deadly mine;(Since 'tis most true, tho' some may think it odd,The foes of England are the foes of God):Let bombs, like comets, kindle all the air,Let cruel famine prompt the orphan's prayer,And every ill that war or want can bringBe shower'd on subjects that renounce their king.What is their plea? – our sovereign only meantThis people should be taxed without consent,Ten years the court with secret cunning triedTo gain this point – the event their hopes belied:How should they else than sometimes miss the markWho 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,81Must 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;82When 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 spillAt 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 ISteal off by night, and o'er the ocean fly,Like a lost man to unknown regions stray,And to oblivion leave this stormy day? —83Or shall I to Britannia's shores again,And big with lies, conceal my thousands slain? —Yes – to some distant clime84 my course I steer,To any country rather than be here,To worlds where reason scarce exerts her law,85A 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 shores 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.

THE MIDNIGHT CONSULTATIONS;86

OR, A TRIP TO BOSTONFirst published in 1775Small bliss is theirs whom Fate's too heavy handConfines 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,5No 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,10The miser hoards, and guards his shining store,The sun still rises where he rose before —No happier scenes his earth-born fancy fillThan one dark valley, or one well-known hill.To other shores his mind, untaught to stray,15Dull and inactive, slumbers life away.But by the aid of yonder glimmering beamThe pole star, faithful to my vagrant dream,Wild regent of my heart! in dreams conveyWhere the herded Britons their bold ranks display;20So 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 led25To 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?30See, 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,35Descend 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;40Know your own strength – in rocky desarts bred,Shall the fierce tiger by the dog be led,And bear all insults from that snarling raceWhose courage lies in impudence of face? —No – rather bid the wood's wild native turn,45And from his side the unfaithful guardian spurn.Now, pleased I wander to the dome of stateWhere Gage resides, our western potentate —Chief of ten thousand, all a race of slaves,87Sent to be shrouded in untimely graves;8850Sent by our angry Jove, sent sword in handTo 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 shore55To vanquish nations, that shall spill your gore. —Go, fiends, and in a social league combinedDestroy, distress, and triumph o'er mankind! —'Tis not our peace this murdering hand restrains,The want of power is made the monster's chains;60Compassion is a stranger to his heart,Or if it came, he bade the guest depart;The melting tear, the sympathising groanWere never yet to Gage or Jefferies[A] known;The seas of blood his heart fore-dooms to spill65Is but a dying serpent's rage to kill.What power shall drive these vipers from our shore,These monsters swoln with carnage, death, and gore!Twelve was the hour – congenial darkness reigned,And no bright star a mimic day-light feigned – 70First, Gage we saw – a crimson chair of stateReceived 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,75The tall arch-captain of the embattled line,All gloomy sate – mumbling of flame and fire,Balls, cannon, ships, and all their damned attire;Well pleased to live in never-ending hum,But empty as the interior of his drum.80Hard by, Burgoyne assumes an ample space,And seemed to meditate with studious face,As if again he wished our world to seeLong, dull, dry letters, writ to General Lee —Huge scrawls of words through endless circuits drawn85Unmeaning 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!8990Lord Piercy seemed to snore – but may the MuseThis 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,95Perhaps 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;100Skilled 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,105In prayer, besought the skies for elbow room —90Small was his stock, and theirs, of heavenly grace,Yet just enough to ask a larger place. —He cursed the brainless minister that plannedHis bootless errand to this hostile land,110But, 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 multitude that wait,115Pale 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, – 120Knights, captains, 'squires – a wonder-working band,Held at small wages 'till they gain the land,Flocked pensive round – black spleen assailed their hearts,(The sport of plough-boys, with their arms and arts)And made them doubt (howe'er for vengeance hot)125Whether they were invincible or not.Now Gage upstarting from his cushioned seatSwore thrice, and cried – "'Tis nonsense to be beat!Thus to be drubbed! pray, warriors, let me knowWhich be in fault, myself, the fates, or you – 130Henceforth let Britain deem her men mere toys —Gods! to be frightened thus by country boys;Why, if your men had had a mind to sup,They might have eat that scare-crow91 army up —Three thousand to twelve hundred thus to yield,135And twice five hundred stretched upon the field! —92O 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,93 to retreat,140The death you escaped my warmest blood congeals,Heaven grant me, too, so swift a pair of heels —94In Chevy-Chace, as, doubtless, you have read,Lord Piercy would have sooner died than fled —Behold the virtues of your house decay – 145Ah! how unlike the Piercy of that day!"Thus spoke the great man in disdainful toneTo the gay peer – not meant for him alone —But ere the tumults of his bosom riseThus from his bench the intrepid peer replies:150"When once the soul has reached the Stygian shore,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,155Farewell 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 goWhere cold Medusa turns to stone below,160Where Belus' maids eternal labours plyTo 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,165That 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 placeAnd leave his crown, his Scotchmen, and his lace, – 170How blest is he, how prudent is the manWho keeps aloof from fate – while yet he can;One well-aimed ball can make us all no moreThan shipwrecked scoundrels on that leeward shore."But why, my friends, these hard reflections still175On Lexington affairs – 'tis Bunker's hill —O fatal hill! – one glance at thee restrainsMy once warm blood, and chills it in my veins —May no sweet grass adorn thy hateful crestThat saw Britannia's bravest troops distrest – 180Or if it does – may some destructive galeThe green leaf wither, and the grass turn pale —All moisture to your brow may heaven deny,And God and man detest you, just as I; —'Tis Bunker's hill, this night has brought us here,185Pray 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 God my honour save! – 195No British soldiers ever fought so brave —Resolved I led them to the hostile lines,(From this day famed where'er great Phœbus shines)Firm at their head I took my dangerous stand,Marching to death and slaughter, sword in hand,200But wonted Fortune halted on her way,We fought with madmen, and we lost the day —Putnam's brave troops, your honours would have sworeHad robbed the clouds of half their nitrous store,With my bold veterans strewed the astonished plain,205For not one musquet was discharged in vain. —But, honoured Gage, why droops thy laurelled head? —Five hundred foes we packed off to the dead. —95Now captains, generals, hear me and attend!Say, shall we home for other succours send?210Shall other navies cross the stormy main? —They may, but what shall awe the pride of Spain?Still for dominion haughty Louis pants —Ah! how I tremble at the thoughts of France. —Shall mighty George, to enforce his injured laws,215Transport all Russia to support the cause? —That allied empire countless shoals may pourNumerous as sands that strew the Atlantic shore;But policy inclines my heart to fearThey'll turn their arms against us when they're here – 220Come, let's agree – for something must be doneEre autumn flies, and winter hastens on —When pinching cold our navy binds in ice,You'll find 'tis then too late to take advice."The clock strikes two! – Gage smote upon his breast,225And cried, – "What fate determines, must be best —But now attend – a counsel I impartThat long has laid the heaviest at my heart —Three weeks – ye gods! – nay, three long years it seemsSince roast-beef I have touched except in dreams.230In sleep, choice dishes to my view repair,Waking, I gape and champ the empty air. —Say, is it just that I, who rule these bands,Should live on husks, like rakes in foreign lands? —96Come, let us plan some project ere we sleep,235And drink destruction to the rebel sheep."On neighbouring isles uncounted cattle stray,Fat beeves and swine, an ill-defended prey —These are fit visions for my noon day dish,These, if my soldiers act as I would wish,240In one short week should glad your maws and mine;On mutton we will sup – on roast beef dine."Shouts of applause re-echoed through the hall,And what pleased one as surely pleased them all;Wallace was named to execute the plan,245And thus sheep-stealing pleased them to a man.Now slumbers stole upon the great man's eye,His powdered foretop nodded from on high,His lids just opened to find how matters were,Dissolve, he said, and so dissolved ye are,250Then downward sunk to slumbers dark and deep, —Each nerve relaxed – and even his guts asleep.97

[A] An inhuman, butchering English judge in the time of Charles the first. —Freneau's note.