The Poems of Philip Freneau - LightNovelsOnl.com
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At the word of the Builder, who built All at first, Turned chaos to order, and darkness dispersed, Our architect leaves us, that mason so skilled, The fabric of virtue and freedom to build.
As far as this nature, called human, can go, A pattern he was of perfection below; By the line and the plummet he built up a wall, As firm as old time, and, we trust, not to fall.
By science enlightened, a friend to mankind, He came, for the purpose exactly designed; Like the Baptist of old, in the annals of fate, Precursor of all that is n.o.ble and great.
He thought it an honour the trowel to hold, And to be with the craft, as a brother enrolled: To the practice of virtue he knew they were bound Wherever a lodge or a mason is found.
Designed as he was, to excel and transcend, Yet he courted the t.i.tles of brother and friend, And these in the fabric of masons are more Than monarchs can give,--and which tyrants abhor.
With a patron like this, we are proud to prepare The stone and the mortar, our building to rear, And copy, from Him, who can make it endure, Who raised the first building, and keeps all secure.
In such a grand master all masons were blessed; The world and all masons his merits confessed; But now he is gone in new orbits to move And join the first builder of all things above.
[194] From the edition of 1809.
ON THE DEATH OF A MASONIC GRAND SACHEM[195]
This day we unite And all Brethren invite To honour a man of our nation; Who, honest as brave, Is gone to his grave And takes an unchangeable station.
In our subject we view (To Liberty true) The officer firm in all danger; Who stood to his post At the head of a host His country to save, and avenge her.
By compa.s.s and square This artisan rare Defeated all foreign invasion, Then returned to his farm When no longer alarm Distracted the mind of the nation.
In all that he did, In all that he said The bliss of mankind was intended;-- He rose for their good, To support them he stood, And Liberty ever defended.
The foundation he laid, And the fabric he made No mason but he could pretend to; It will stand, we foresee, 'Till that era shall be When the globe of the world there's an end to.
So, fame to the man Who the building began, Whose model all nations will take When kingdoms are fled, Standing armies are dead, And monarchs--no longer awake.
[195] From the edition of 1809.
ON A HONEY BEE
Drinking from a Gla.s.s of Wine and Drowned Therein[196]
(By Hezekiah Salem.)
Thou, born to sip the lake or spring, Or quaff the waters of the stream, Why hither come on vagrant wing?-- Does Bacchus tempting seem-- Did he, for you, this gla.s.s prepare?-- Will I admit you to a share?
Did storms hara.s.s or foes perplex, Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay-- Did wars distress, or labours vex, Or did you miss your way?-- A better seat you could not take Than on the margin of this lake.
Welcome!--I hail you to my gla.s.s: All welcome, here, you find; Here, let the cloud of trouble pa.s.s, Here, be all care resigned.-- This fluid never fails to please, And drown the griefs of men or bees.
What forced you here, we cannot know, And you will scarcely tell-- But cheery we would have you go And bid a glad farewell: On lighter wings we bid you fly, Your dart will now all foes defy.
Yet take not, oh! too deep a drink, And in this ocean die; Here bigger bees than you might sink, Even bees full six feet high.
Like Pharoah, then, you would be said To perish in a sea of red.
Do as you please, your will is mine; Enjoy it without fear-- And your grave will be this gla.s.s of wine, Your epitaph--a tear-- Go, take your seat in Charon's boat, We'll tell the hive, you died afloat.
[196] From the edition of 1809.
ON THE FALL OF AN ANCIENT OAK TREE[197]
While onward moves each circling year Thy mandates, Nature, all obey, As with this moving, changeful sphere The seasons change and never stay; Old Oak, I to your place return, Where late you stood, and viewing mourn,
For the great loss my heart sustained When you declined, long will I sigh, That hour when you no more remained To cheer the summer, pa.s.sing by; No longer blessed my eager view, But like some dying friend withdrew.
Though frequent, by that nipping frost, The blast which cold November sends, I saw your leafy honours lost; Hope, for such losses, made amends: The spring again beheld them grow, And we were pleased, and so was you.
Since I your fatal fall survive, Remembrance long shall hold you dear, And bid some young successor live; By sad Amyntor planted here; Its buds to swell, its leaves to spread, And shade the place when he is dead.
A prince among your towering race, What more your vanished form endears Is that your presence in this place Had been at least one hundred years; And men that long in dust have laid, When boys, beneath your shadow played.
You had your time to feel the sun, To wanton in his cheering ray;-- That time is past, your race is run, And we have nothing more to say, Than, may your oaken spirit go Among Elysian oaks below.
[197] From the edition of 1809.
STANZAS ON THE DECEASE OF THOMAS PAINE
Who died at New-York, on the 8th of June, 1809[198]
Princes and kings decay and die And, instant, rise again: But this is not the case, trust me, With men like Thomas Paine.
In vain the democratic host His equal would attain: For years to come they will not boast A second Thomas Paine.
Though many may his name a.s.sume; a.s.sumption is in vain; For every man has not his plume-- Whose name is Thomas Paine.
