The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume I Part 29

170, "And leave his coursers starting for the race"; 172, "aloof from Styx"; 174, "Than leaky vessels;" 177, "thy ghastly sight restrains;"

following 178,

"May no gay flowers or vernal blooming tree Scent thy vile air or shade the face of thee!"

180, "nodded o'er Britannia's troops"; 183, "to your breast"; 185, "has fix'd us here"; 186, "Pray query"; 189, "fluent Percy"; 194, "our conduct down"; 196, "more brave"; 199, "my b.l.o.o.d.y stand." In place of lines 201-208, the 1775 version has the following:

'Till met the strength of each opposing force, Like blazing-stars in their etherial course That all on fire with rapid swiftness fly, Then clash and shake the concave of the sky.

Twice we gave way, twice shunn'd the infernal rout, And twice you would have cry'd all h.e.l.l's broke out.

They fought like those who press for death's embrace, And laugh the grizly monarch in the face.

Putnam's brave troops, your honor would have swore, Had robb'd the clouds of half their sulph'rous store, Call'd thunder down whence Jove his vengeance spreads, And drove it mix'd with lightning on our heads!

What tho' Cop's-hill its black artillery play'd, Clouding the plains in worse than Stygian shade; Tho' floating batteries rais'd their dismal roar, Tho' all the navy bellow'd from the sh.o.r.e, They roar'd in vain, death claim'd from them no share, But helpless, spent their force in empty air.

Alas! what scenes of slaughter I beheld, What sudden carnage flush'd the glutted field!

Heaven gave the foe to thin my warlike train, For not a musket was discharg'd in vain; Yes, that short hour, while heaven forbore to smile, Made many widows in Britannia's isle, And shewing all what power supreme can do, Gave many orphans to those widows too.

But Gage arouse, come lift thy languid head, Full fifty foes we pack'd off to the dead: Who feeling death, from their hot posts, withdrew, And Warren with the discontented crew-- Blest be the hand that laid his head so low, Not fifty common deaths could please me so-- But to be short, so quick our men came in, The hostile army was so very thin; We fix'd our bay'nets and resum'd the fray, Then forc'd their lines and made the dogs give way."

Next rose Burgoyne and rais'd his brazen voice, And cry'd, "We have no reason to rejoice.

Warren is dead--in that we all agree, Not fate itself is half so fix'd as he; But my suspecting heart bids me foredoom A thousand Warrens rising in his room-- Heaven knows I left my native country's air, In full belief of things that never were; Deceiv'd by Grant, I've sail'd thus far in vain, And like a fool may now sail back again-- Grant call'd them cowards--curse the stupid a.s.s, Their sides are Iron and their hearts are bra.s.s-- Cowards he said, and lest that should not do, He p.a.w.n'd his oath and swore that they were so: O, were he here, I'd make him change his note, Disgorge his lie or cut the rascal's throat.

Here follow lines 209-252 above, with the following variations: 209, "But Captains"; 213, 214, not in original version; 215, "to make his law obey'd"; 216, "ten thousand Russians to our aid"; 218, "form the ocean sh.o.r.e"; 219, "commands my heart"; 225, "strikes three"; 230, "I've eat no fresh provision, but in dreams"; 231, "to my eyes"; 232, "and chew"; 235, "hold a council"; 236, "some consultation how to filch their sheep"; 237, "Unnumbered cattle"; 238, "sheep an undefended prey"; 239, "fit victims"; 240, "if the G.o.ds would act"; 241, "shall glad your hearts"; 242, "on beef we'll dine"; 247, "the chieftain's eye"; 251, 252, "to dullest slumbers deep, And in his arms embrac'd the powers of sleep."

In Boston's southern end there stands a tree Long sacred held to darling Liberty; Its branching arms with verdant leaves were crown'd, Imparting shade and grateful coolness round: To its fam'd trunk, invisible as air, I from the sleepy council did repair.

And at its root, fair Freedom's shrine, I paid My warmest vows, and blest the virtuous shade.

Now s.h.i.+n'd the gay fac'd sun with morning light.

All Nature joy'd exulting at the sight, When swift as wind, to vent their base-born rage, The Tory Williams[b] and the Butcher Gage Rush'd to the tree, a nameless number near, Tories and Negroes following in the rear-- Each, axe in hand, attack'd the honour'd tree, Swearing eternal war with Liberty; Nor ceas'd their strokes, 'till each repeated wound Tumbled its honours headlong to the ground; But e'er it fell, not mindless of its wrong, Aveng'd it took one destin'd head along.

A Tory soldier on its topmost limb-- The Genius of the shade look'd stern at him, And mark'd him out that self same hour to dine, Where unsnuff'd lamps burn low at Pluto's shrine, Then tripp'd his feet from off their cautious stand; Pale turn'd the wretch--he spread each helpless hand, But spread in vain, with headlong force he fell, Nor stopp'd descending 'till he stopp'd in h.e.l.l.

Next, curious to explore, I wander'd where Our injur'd countrymen imprison'd are, Some closely coop'd in the unwelcome town; Some in dark dungeons held ign.o.bly down; Gage holds them there, and all recess denies, For 'tis in these the coward's safety lies; Were these once out, how would our troops consign Each licens'd robber to the gulphy brine, Or drive them foaming to the s.h.i.+ps for aid, To beg of stormy Greaves to cannonade, And midnight vengeance point, like Vandeput, Voiding his h.e.l.l-hounds to their devilish glut.

A deed like that the muse must blush to name, And bids me stamp a coward on thy fame; Rage, ruffian, rage, nor lay thy thunder down, 'Till all our Tories howl and flee the town.

What is a Tory? Heavens and earth reveal!

What strange blind monster does that name conceal?

There! there he stands--for Augury prepare, Come lay his heart and inmost entrails bare, I, by the forelock, seize the Stygian hound; You bind his arms and bind the dragon down.

Surgeon, attend with thy dissecting knife, Aim well the stroke that damps the springs of life, Extract his fangs, dislodge his teeth of prey, Clap in your pincers, and then tear away.-- Soldier, stand by, the monster may resist.

You draw your back-sword, and I'll draw my fist.

Lo! mixt with air his worthless ghost has fled; Surgeon, his paleness speaks the monster dead; Part, part the sutures of his brazen scull, Hard as a rock, impenetrably dull.

Hold out his brain, and let his brethren see That tortoise brain, no larger than a pea-- Come, rake his entrails, whet thy knife again, Let's see what evils threat the next campaign, If ministerial force shall prove too great, Or if the Congress save their mighty freight: See on his breast, deep grav'd with iron pen, "Pa.s.sive obedience to the worst of men."

There to his lights direct thy searching eyes, "Slavery I love, and freedom I despise."

View next his heart, his midriff just above, "To my own country I'll a traitor prove."

Hard by his throat, for utterance meant, I spy, "I'll fight for tyrants and their ministry."

His crowded guts unnumber'd scrawls contain, The scandal of our country and the bane; His bleeding entrails shew some great design, Which shall abortive prove, as I divine; But, freedom lost, nor danger do I see, If we can only with ourselves agree.

How like St. George, invincible I stand, This home bred dragon stretch'd beneath my hand!

Here may he lie, and let no traveller dare The gra.s.s green hillock o'er his carcase rear, Or heap up piles of monumental stones, To s.h.i.+eld from Phoebus and the stars his bones.

This feat perform'd, I girt my magic gown, And march'd, unlicens'd, from the guarded town.

To our fam'd camp I held my eager course, Curious to view the courage and the force Of those, whose hearts are flush'd with freedom's flame, Who yet stand foremost in the field of fame, And deeply griev'd with their departing laws, Arm in conviction of a righteous cause.

But e'er I reach'd the great encampment's bound The friendly Genius on the way I found; Graceful he smil'd his azure locks he shook, While from his lips these flowing accents broke: "O mortal! guided by the fates and me, To view what thousands wish in vain to see; Now to my care the magic vest restore, Chearful return to what thou wast before, I to the shades this wond'rous mantle bear, And hang it safe in Fancy's temple there; Nor let its loss provoke thee to repine, The vest was Jove's, the will to lend it mine."

So said the G.o.d, and blending with the light, I walk'd conspicuous and reveal'd to sight, No more impervious to the human view, But seeing all, and seen by others too.

Now throngs on throngs on ev'ry side surround, Beneath the burthen groans the heaving ground, Those fam'd afar to drive the deadly shot, With truest level to the central spot; Those whom Virginia's vast dominion sends, From her chaste streams and intervening lands, And those who conscious of their country's claim, From Pennsylvania's happy climate came.

These, and ten thousand more were scatter'd round In black battalions on the tented ground, Prepar'd, whene'er the trumpet's iron roar Should summon forth to all the woes of war, To hear with joy the loud alarming call, And rush perhaps to their own funeral.

Just in the center of the camp arose An elm, whose shade invited to repose; Thither I rov'd, and at the cool retreat A brave, tho' rough-cast, soldier chanc'd to meet: No fop in arms, no feather on his head, No glittering toys the manly warrior had, His auburne face the least employ'd his care, He left it to the females to be fair; And tho't the men, whom s.h.i.+ning trifles sway, But pageant soldiers for a sun-s.h.i.+ne day.

Marking my pensive step, his hand he laid On his hard breast, and thus the warrior said: "Stranger, observe, behold these warlike fields, Mark well the ills, that civil discord yields: No crimes of our's this vengeful doom require, Our city ravag'd and our towns on fire, Troops pour'd on troops to Britain's lasting shame, That threaten all with universal flame; These are the kings, the monarchs of the sea, Exerting power in lawless tyranny, These, hot for power, and burning for command, Would rule the ocean and subject the land; But while this arm the strength of man retains, While true-born courage revels through my veins, I'll spill my blood yon' hostile force to quell, And lawless power by lawful strength repel; This rough, black cannon shall our cause defend, This black, rough cannon is my truest friend.

This, arm'd with vengeance, belching death afar, Confus'd their thousands marching to the war: Yet, deeply griev'd, the tears bedew my eyes, For this, the greatest of calamities; That our keen weapons, meant for other ends, Should spend their rage on Britons, once our friends; But Liberty!--no price hast thou below, And e'en a Briton's life for thee must go.

Come, then, my weapons, rise in Freedom's aid, Her steps attend and be her call obey'd; Let Carleton arm his antichristian might, And sprinkle holy-water 'ere he fight, And let him have, to s.h.i.+eld his limbs from hurt, St. Stephen's breeches,[c] and St. Stephen's s.h.i.+rt,[c]

Don Quixote's sword, the valiant knight of Spain, Which now may grace a madman's side again, St. Bernard's hose,[c] and lest we give too few, John Faustus' cap, and Satan's cloven shoe; (These precious relicks may defend their backs, And good Guy Johnson should, I think, go snacks) Nay, let him, ere the clas.h.i.+ng armies cope, Procure a pardon from his friend the Pope, That if his soul should be dislodg'd from hence, Heaven may with all his scarlet sins dispense, And place him safe beyond the reach of ball, Where Abrah'm's bosom may be had for all.

Some powerful cause disarms my heart of fear, And bids me bring some future battle near, When crowds of dead shall veil the ghastful plain, And mighty Lords like Percy, fly again; When every pulse with treble force shall beat And each exert his valour to retreat.

And each shall wish his stature may be made, Long as it seems at Sol's descending shade: So tallest trees that tour toward the skies, From simple acorns take their humble rise.

To see from death their boasted valour shrink, And basely fly, has sometimes made me think, The true great heart is often found remote From the gay trappings of a scarlet coat.

Stranger, in pity lend one pensive sigh, For all that dy'd and all that yet may die, If wars intestine long their rage retain, This land must turn a wilderness again.

While civil discord plumes her snaky head, What streams of human gore most yet be shed, With sanguine floods shall Mystick's waves be dy'd, And ting'd the ocean, with her purple tide; Enough.--The prospect fills my heart with woe; Back to the heart my freezing spirits flow, No more remains; no more than this, that all Must fight like Romans, or like Romans fall: O heaven-born peace, renew thy wonted charms, Where Neptune westward spreads his aged arms; To hostile lands return an honour'd guest, And bless our crimson sh.o.r.es among the rest; 'Till then may heaven a.s.sert our injur'd claims, And second every stroke Columbia aims, Direct our counsels and our leaders sway, Confound our foes and fill them with dismay.

So shall past years, those happy years, return, And war's red lamp in Boston cease to burn: Hear and attest the warmest wish I bring, G.o.d save the Congress and reform the King!

Long may Britannia rule our hearts again, Rule as she rul'd in George the Second's reign; May ages hence her growing empire see, And she be glorious, but ourselves be free, In that just scale an equal balance hold, And grant these climes a second age of gold."

He ceas'd, and now the sun's declining beam With fainter radiance shot a trembling gleam, The thickening stars proclaim'd the day expir'd, And to their tented mansions all retir'd.

[b] A notable Tory in Boston.--_Freneau's note._

[c] Certain well known relicks among the Papists.--_Freneau's note._

[86] "Huns."--_Ed. 1786._

[87] "Slaughter'd by our Rifle-guns."--_Ed. 1786._

[88] "Proud of his soldiers.h.i.+p, Burgoyne rated himself higher yet in his character as an author."--_Trevelyan._ He was a voluminous letter-writer, and his vivid and interesting letters, of which great numbers have been preserved, throw much light upon the period.

[89] This expression belongs to Burgoyne rather than Howe. "Burgoyne took no pains to hide them [his sentiments] in any company. He exclaimed to the first colonist whom he met ... 'Let us get in and we will soon find elbow-room.' The saying caught the public ear, and the time was not far distant when its author learned to his cost that it is more easy to coin a phrase than to recall it from circulation."--_Trevelyan, Am.

Rev._

[90] "School-boy army."--_Ed. 1786._

[91] The first detachment of troops, which left Boston on the night of April 18th, consisted of 800 men; the reinforcements that met them just beyond Lexington consisted of 1,200 men. "On this eventful day, the British lost 273 of their number, while the Americans lost 93."--_Fiske's American Revolution._

[92] Lord Percy was at the head of the reinforcements which rescued the British regulars on their retreat from Concord and Lexington, and it was under his leaders.h.i.+p that the disastrous retreat was continued to Boston.

[93] "I believe the fact, stripped of all coloring," Was.h.i.+ngton wrote six weeks later on, "to be plainly this: that if the retreat had not been as precipitate as it was (and G.o.d knows it could not have been more so), the ministerial troops must have surrendered or been totally cut off."--_Trevelyan's American Revolution._

[94] "In this battle, in which not more than one hour was spent in actual fighting, the British loss in killed and wounded was 1,054....

The American loss, mainly incurred at the rail fence and during the hand-to-hand struggle at the redoubt, was 449."--_Fiske's American Revolution._

[95] Burgoyne, in one of his letters, declares that "a pound of fresh mutton could only be bought for its weight in gold."

[96] Gage's inertness and procrastination were a constant source of ridicule both in England and America. No man was ever more severely criticised. Hume even branded him as a contemptible coward.

THE SILENT ACADEMY[97]

Subjected to despotic sway, Compelled all mandates to obey, Once in this dome I humbly bowed, A member of the murmuring crowd, Where Pedro Blanco held his reign, The tyrant of a small domain.

By him a numerous herd controuled, The smart, the stupid, and the bold, Essayed some little share to gain Of the vast treasures of his brain; Some learned the Latin, some the Greek, And some in flowery style to speak; Some writ their themes, while others read, And some with Euclid stuffed the head; Some toiled in verse, and some in prose, And some in logick sought repose; Some learned to cypher, some to draw, And some began to study law.

But all is ruined, all is done, The tutor to the shades is gone, And all his pupils, led astray, Have each found out a different way.