The Poems of Philip Freneau - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Deep have I fathomed in his cave, but find No glimpse of gold--we surely did mistake him: His treasures were not of that glittering kind; Dryed fruits, and one good book; his goats, his kids, These were, indeed, his riches-- Now, hermit, now I feel remorse within me: While here we stay thy shadow will torment us, From every haunted rock, or bush, projecting; And when from hence we go, that too shall follow, Crying--Perdition on these fiends from Europe, Whose b.l.o.o.d.y malice, or whose thirst for gold, Fresh from the slaughter-house of innocence Unpeoples isles, and lays the world in ruin!
[362] This poem was doubtless a product of Freneau's earlier Muse, as were also the poems "The Indian Burying Ground," "The Indian Student,"
"The Man of Ninety," and "Alcina's Enchanted Island" which follow. They were, however, first printed in the edition of 1788 and there is no other hint as to their date. I have followed in all cases except the last the 1809 text.
THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND[363]
In spite of all the learned have said, I still my old opinion keep; The posture, that we give the dead, Points out the soul's eternal sleep.
Not so the ancients of these lands-- The Indian, when from life released, Again is seated with his friends, And shares again the joyous feast.[A]
[A] "The North American Indians bury their dead in a sitting posture; decorating the corpse with wampum, the images of birds, quadrupeds, &c: And (if that of a warrior) with bows, arrows, tomhawks, and other military weapons."--_Freneau's note._
His imaged birds, and painted bowl, And venison, for a journey dressed, Bespeak the nature of the soul, Activity, that knows no rest.
His bow, for action ready bent, And arrows, with a head of stone, Can only mean that life is spent, And not the old ideas gone.
Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way, No fraud upon the dead commit-- Observe the swelling turf, and say They do not lie, but here they sit.
Here still a lofty rock remains, On which the curious eye may trace (Now wasted, half, by wearing rains) The fancies of a ruder race.
Here still an aged elm aspires, Beneath whose far-projecting shade (And which the shepherd still admires) The children of the forest played!
There oft a restless Indian queen (Pale Shebah, with her braided hair) And many a barbarous form is seen To chide the man that lingers there.
By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews; In habit for the chase arrayed, The hunter still the deer pursues, The hunter and the deer, a shade![364]
And long shall timorous fancy see The painted chief, and pointed spear, And Reason's self shall bow the knee To shadows and delusions here.
[363] In the 1788 edition this has the t.i.tle "Lines Occasioned by a Visit to an old Indian Burying Ground."
[364] Campbell borrowed this line for his poem "O'Connor's Child."
Stanza IV of the poem begins as follows:
"Bright as the bow that spans the storm In Erin's yellow vesture clad, A son of light--a lovely form He comes and makes her glad; Now on the gra.s.s-green turf he sits, His ta.s.sel'd horn beside him laid; Now o'er the hills in chase he flits, The hunter and the deer a shade!"
THE INDIAN STUDENT
Or, Force of Nature[365]
From Susquehanna's farthest springs Where savage tribes pursue their game, (His blanket tied with yellow strings,) A shepherd of the forest came.
Not long before, a wandering priest Expressed his wish, with visage sad-- "Ah, why (he cried) in Satan's waste, "Ah, why detain so fine a lad?
"In white-man's land there stands a town "Where learning may be purchased low-- "Exchange his blanket for a gown, "And let the lad to college go."--
From long debate the council rose, And viewing Shalum's tricks with joy To Cambridge Hall,[A] o'er wastes of snows, They sent the copper-coloured boy.
[A] Harvard College, at Cambridge in Ma.s.sachusetts.--_Freneau's note, edition 1788._
One generous chief a bow supplied, This gave a shaft, and that a skin; The feathers, in vermillion dyed, Himself did from a turkey win:
Thus dressed so gay, he took his way O'er barren hills, alone, alone!
His guide a star, he wandered far, His pillow every night a stone.
At last he came, with foot so lame, Where learned men talk heathen Greek, And Hebrew lore is gabbled o'er, To please the Muses,--twice a week.
Awhile he writ, awhile he read, Awhile he conned their grammar rules-- (An Indian savage so well bred Great credit promised to the schools.)
Some thought he would in law excel, Some said in physic he would s.h.i.+ne; And one that knew him, pa.s.sing well, Beheld, in him, a sound Divine.
But those of more discerning eye Even then could other prospects show, And saw him lay his Virgil by To wander with his dearer bow.
The tedious hours of study spent, The heavy-moulded lecture done, He to the woods a hunting went, Through lonely wastes he walked, he run.
No mystic wonders fired his mind; He sought to gain no learned degree, But only sense enough to find The squirrel in the hollow tree.
The shady bank, the purling stream, The woody wild his heart possessed, The dewy lawn, his morning dream In fancy's gayest colours dressed.
"And why (he cried) did I forsake "My native wood for gloomy walls; "The silver stream, the limpid lake "For musty books and college halls.
"A little could my wants supply-- "Can wealth and honour give me more; "Or, will the sylvan G.o.d deny "The humble treat he gave before?
"Let seraphs gain the bright abode, "And heaven's sublimest mansions see-- "I only bow to Nature's G.o.d-- "The land of shades will do for me.
"These dreadful secrets of the sky "Alarm my soul with chilling fear-- "Do planets in their orbits fly, "And is the earth, indeed, a sphere?
"Let planets still their course pursue, "And comets to the centre run-- "In Him my faithful friend I view, "The image of my G.o.d--the Sun.
"Where Nature's ancient forests grow, "And mingled laurel never fades, "My heart is fixed;--and I must go "To die among my native shades."
He spoke, and to the western springs, (His gown discharged, his money spent, His blanket tied with yellow strings,) The shepherd of the forest went.[366]
[365] The 1788 version bore under the t.i.tle the motto:
"_Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vallibus amnes; Flumina amem, sylvasque inglorius._"
VIRG. Georg. II. V. 483.
[366] The 1788 version has this additional stanza:
