The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume III Part 45

[A] Porto Cavallo, or Cabello, a seaport town of Terra Firma, in South America, on the coast of the Caraccas, and the Caribbean Sea; said to have been the first object of Miranda's expedition.--_Freneau's note._

In dungeons vile they pa.s.s'd the day, Far from their country, far away From pitying friends, from liberty!

That years could scarce retrieve!

Twas thus Miranda play'd his game; But who with him should share the blame?

Perhaps if we the men did name, Credulity would not believe!

[188] From the edition of 1815. Miranda was a Spanish-American revolutionist, who devoted his life to the emanc.i.p.ation of Venezuela from Spanish rule. His first expedition was a failure.

ON THE ABUSE OF HUMAN POWER

As exercised over opinion[189]

What human power shall dare to bind The mere opinions of the mind?

Must man at that tribunal bow Which will no range to thought allow, But his best powers would sway or sink, And idly tells him what to Think?

Yes! there are such, and such are taught To fetter every power of thought; To chain the mind, or bend it down To some mean system of their own, And make religion's sacred cause Amenable to human laws.

Has human power the simplest claim Our hearts to sway, our thoughts to tame; Shall she the rights of heaven a.s.sert, Can she to falsehood truth convert, Or truth again to falsehood turn, And at the test of reason spurn?

All human sense, all craft must fail And all its strength will nought avail, When it attempts with efforts blind To sway the independent mind, Its spring to break, its pride to awe, Or give to private judgment, law.

Oh impotent! and vile as vain, They, who would native thought restrain!

As soon might they arrest the storm Or take from fire the power to warm, As man compel, by dint of might, Old darkness to prefer to light.

No! leave the mind unchain'd and free, And what they ought, mankind will be, No hypocrite, no lurking fiend, No artist to some evil end, But good and great, benign and just, As G.o.d and nature made them first.

[189] From the edition of 1815.

OCTOBER'S ADDRESS[190]

October came the thirtieth day: And thus I heard October say;

"The lengthening nights and shortening days Have brought the year towards a close, The oak a leafless bough displays And all is hastening to repose; To make the most of what remains Is now to take the greater pains.

"An orange hue the grove a.s.sumes, The indian-summer-days appear; When that deceitful summer comes Be sure to hail the winter near: If autumn wears a mourning coat Be sure, to keep the mind afloat.

"The flowers have dropt, their blooms are gone, The herbage is no longer green; The birds are to their haunts withdrawn, The leaves are scatter'd through the plain; The sun approaches Capricorn, And man and creature looks forlorn.

"Amidst a scene of such a cast, The driving sleet, or falling snow, The sullen cloud, the northern blast, What have you left for comfort now, When all is dead, or seems to die That cheer'd the heart or charm'd the eye?

"To meet the scene, and it arrives, (A scene that will in time retire) Enjoy the pine--while that remains You need not want the winter fire.

It rose unask'd for, from the plain, And when consumed, will rise again.

"Enjoy the gla.s.s, enjoy the board, Nor discontent with fate betray, Enjoy what reason will afford, Nor disregard what females say; Their chat will pa.s.s away the time, When out of cash or out of rhyme.

"The cottage warm and cheerful heart Will cheat the stormy winter night, Will bid the glooms of care depart And to December give delight."-- Thus spoke October--rather gay, Then seized his staff, and walk'd away.

[190] From the edition of 1815.

TO A CATY-DID[A][191]

[A] A well-known insect, when full grown, about two inches in length, and of the exact color of a green leaf. It is of the genus cicada, or gra.s.shopper kind, inhabiting the green foliage of trees and singing such a song as Caty-did in the evening, towards autumn.--_Freneau's note._

In a branch of willow hid Sings the evening Caty-did: From the lofty locust bough Feeding on a drop of dew, In her suit of green array'd Hear her singing in the shade Caty-did, Caty-did, Caty-did!

While upon a leaf you tread, Or repose your little head, On your sheet of shadows laid, All the day you nothing said: Half the night your cheery tongue Revell'd out its little song, Nothing else but Caty-did.

From your lodgings on the leaf Did you utter joy or grief--?

Did you only mean to say, I have had my summer's day, And am pa.s.sing, soon, away To the grave of Caty-did:-- Poor, unhappy Caty-did!

But you would have utter'd more Had you known of nature's power-- From the world when you retreat, And a leaf's your winding sheet, Long before your spirit fled, Who can tell but nature said, Live again, my Caty-did!

Live, and chatter Caty-did.

Tell me, what did Caty do?

Did she mean to trouble you?-- Why was Caty not forbid To trouble little Caty-did?-- Wrong, indeed at you to fling, Hurting no one while you sing Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

Why continue to complain?

Caty tells me, she again Will not give you plague or pain:-- Caty says you may be hid Caty will not go to bed While you sing us Caty-did.

Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

But, while singing, you forgot To tell us what did Caty not: Caty-did not think of cold, Flocks retiring to the fold, Winter, with his wrinkles old, Winter, that yourself foretold When you gave us Caty-did.

Stay securely in your nest; Caty now, will do her best, All she can, to make you blest; But, you want no human aid-- Nature, when she form'd you, said, "Independent you are made, My dear little Caty-did: Soon yourself must disappear With the verdure of the year,"-- And to go, we know not where, With your song of Caty-did.

[191] From the edition of 1815.

ON Pa.s.sING BY AN OLD CHURCHYARD[192]

Pensive, on this green turf I cast my eye, And almost feel inclined to muse and sigh: Such tokens of mortality so nigh.