The Poems of Philip Freneau - LightNovelsOnl.com
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How oft has rugged nature charged my pen With gall, to shed it on that worst of men, Who, dumb to all that reason might decide, Mankind, their reason, and their prayers defy'd: Who, firm to all that phrenzy could pursue, Explored the ancient world, to chain the new; And tired the despot, search'd each dark recess, And ransack'd h.e.l.l, to find the hireling hesse:-- Could he be here, a witness to this day, With calm delight he would this scene survey, Would see unmoved, with apathy of mind, The gaping vault, this havoc of mankind!
Without a tear, these mouldering bones review, That fell by ruffian hands--employ'd by you.
His phrenzy, rampant with the right divine, Inspired a nation with a black design, To blast with poison, like a wizard's spell, And plant on man the characters of h.e.l.l!--
Thou, who shalt come, of feeling mind possest, And, heaven's first gift, the patriotic breast, On this bleak coast, to tread the island plain, Think, what revenge disgraced a monarch's reign!
Who, not content with wealth and power we gave, Forgot the subject, to enthral the slave: Such was his hope;--that hope to realize He sent his myriads to demand the prize; What were the splendid trophies he acquired?
Were these bleach'd bones the trophies he admired?
While pa.s.sion fires, or kindred sorrows fall, Ask not, if this sequester'd cell is all, Is all that honors these collected bones?-- Enough is done to stigmatize all thrones: Ask not, while pa.s.sion with resentment fires, Why to the skies no monument aspires?-- Enough is done to rouse the patriot glow And bid the rising race your feelings know.
[179] From the edition of 1815.
ON THE PEAK OF PICO
ONE OF THE AZORES, OR WESTWARD ISLANDS[180]
Attracted to this airy steep Above the subject hills, Ocean, from his surrounding deep The urn of Pico fills.
Thence gus.h.i.+ng streams, unstinted, stray To glad the mountain's side; Or, winding through the vallies, gay, Through fields, and groves, and vineyards glide.
To him the plains their verdure owe Confessing what your smiles bestow, Thou Peak of the Azores.
From day to day the unwearied sail Surveys your towering cone, And when th' adjacent prospects fail, And neighboring isles no more they hail, You meet the eye alone.
Twice forty miles the exploring eye Discerns you o'er the waste, Now, a blue turret in the sky When not by mists embraced.
Long may you stand, the friendly mark, To those who sail afar, A spot that guides the wandering barque, A second polar star.
[180] From the edition of 1815. Freneau sailed for the Madeira Islands May 12, 1803, arriving there on June 23. He was back in Charleston on August 16 following.
A BACCHa.n.a.lIAN DIALOGUE
Written 1803[181]
Arrived at Madeira, the island of vines, Where mountains and vallies abound, Where the sun the wild juice of the cl.u.s.ter refines, To gladden the magical ground:
As pensive I stray'd in her elegant shade, Now halting and now on the move, Old Bacchus I met, with a crown on his head, In the darkest recess of a grove.
I met him with awe, but no symptom of fear As I roved by his mountains and springs, When he said with a sneer, "how dare you come here, You hater of despots and kings?--
Do you know that a prince, and a regent renown'd Presides in this island of wine?
Whose fame on the earth has encircled it round And spreads from the pole to the line?
Haste away with your barque: on the foam of the main To Charleston I bid you repair: There drink your Jamaica, that maddens the brain; You shall have no Madeira--I swear."
"Dear Bacchus," (I answered) for Bacchus it was That spoke in this menacing tone: I knew by the smirk and the flush on his face It was Bacchus, and Bacchus alone--
"Dear Bacchus, (I answered) ah, why so severe?-- Since your nectar abundantly flows, Allow me one cargo--without it I fear Some people will soon come to blows:
I left them in wrangles, disorder, and strife, Political feuds were so high, I was sick of their quarrels, and sick of my life, And almost requested to die."
The deity smiling, replied, "I relent:-- For the sake of your coming so far, Here, taste of my choicest--go, tell them repent, And cease their political war.
With the cargo I send, you may say, I intend To hush them to peace and repose; With this present of mine, on the wings of the wind You shall travel, and tell them, here goes
A health to old Bacchus! who sends them the best Of the nectar his island affords, The soul of the feast and the joy of the guest, Too good for your monarchs and lords.
No rivals have I in this insular waste, Alone will I govern the isle With a king at my feet, and a court to my taste, And all in the popular style.
But a spirit there is in the order of things, To me it is perfectly plain, That will strike at the scepters of despots and kings, And only king Bacchus remain."
[181] From edition of 1815.
STANZAS WRITTEN AT THE ISLAND OF MADEIRA[182]
On the fatal and unprecedented torrents of water which collected from the mountains on the ninth of October, 1803, and destroyed a considerable part of the city of Funchal, drowned a vast number of people, and damaged, to a great amount, several plantations and villages in that neighborhood.
The rude attack, if none will tell, On Bacchus, in his favorite isle; If none in verse describe it well, If none a.s.sume a poet's style These devastations to display;-- Attend me, and perhaps I may.
To those who own the feeling heart This tragic scene I would present, No fiction, or the work of art, Nor merely for the fancy meant: Twas all a shade, a darken'd scene, Old Noah's deluge come again!
From hills beyond the clouds that soar, The vaults of heaven, the torrents run, And rus.h.i.+ng with resistless power, a.s.sail'd the island of the sun: Fond nature saw the blasted vine, And seem'd to sicken and repine.
As skyward stream'd the electric fire The heavens emblazed, or wrapt in gloom; The clouds appear, the clouds retire And terror said, "the time is come When all the groves, and hill, and plain Will sink to ocean's bed again."
The cheery G.o.d, who loves to smile And gladness to the heart bestows, Almost resolved to quit his isle, And in unwonted pa.s.sion rose; He sought his caves in wild dismay And left the heavens to have their way.
The whistling winds had ceased to blow; Not one, of all the aerial train-- No gale to aid that night of wo Disturb'd the slumbers of the main; In distant woods they silent slept; Or, in the clouds, the tempest kept.
The bursting rains in seas descend, Machico[A] heard the distant roar, And lightnings, while the heavens they rend, Show'd ruin marching to the sh.o.r.e: Egyptian darkness brought her gloom And fear foreboded nature's doom.
[A] A distant village on the island.--_Freneau's note._
The heavens on fire, an ocean's force Seized forests, vineyards, herds, and men, And swelling streams from every source Bade ancient chaos come again: Through Fonchal's[B] road their courses held And ocean saw his waves repell'd.
[B] The capital town of the island.--_Ibid._
