The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume II Part 41

Thus, all the business of mankind, And all the follies we might find Are huddled in his shattered mind.

'Till taught to think of new affairs, At last, with death, he walks down stairs, And leaves--the wide world to his heirs.

[289] Published in the _Freeman's Journal_, February 21, 1787. In the 1809 edition, which the text follows, 1784 is given as the date of composition.

SKETCHES OF AMERICAN HISTORY[290]

This American world, all our histories say, Secluded from Europe, long centuries lay, And peopled by beings whom white-men detest, The sons of the Tartars, that came from the west.

These Indians, 'tis certain, were here long before ye all, And dwelt in their wigwams from time immemorial; In a mere state of nature, untutored, untaught, They did as they pleased, and they spoke as they thought--

No priests they had then for the cure of their souls, No lawyers, recorders, or keepers of rolls; No learned physicians vile nostrums concealed-- Their druggist was Nature--her shop was the field.

In the midst of their forests how happy and blest, In the skin of a bear or buffalo drest!

No care to perplex, and no luxury seen But the feast, and the song, and the dance on the green.

Some bowed to the moon, and some wors.h.i.+pped the sun, And the king and the captain were centered in one; In a cabin they met, in their councils of state, Where age and experience alone might debate.

With quibbles they never essayed to beguile, And Nature had taught them the orator's style; No pomp they affected, not quaintly refined The nervous idea that glanced on the mind.

When hunting or battle invited to arms, The women they left to take care of their farms-- The toils of the summer did winter repay, While snug in their cabins they snored it away.

If death came among them his dues to demand, They still had some prospects of comfort at hand-- The dead man they sent to the regions of bliss, With his bottle and dog, and his fair maids to kiss.

Thus happy they dwelt in a rural domain, Uninstructed in commerce, unpractised in gain, 'Till, taught by the loadstone to traverse the seas, Columbus came over, that bold Genoese.

From records authentic, the date we can shew, One thousand four hundred and ninety and two Years, borne by the seasons, had vanished away, Since the babe in the manger at Bethlehem lay.

What an aera was this, above all that had pa.s.sed, To yield such a treasure, discovered at last-- A new world, in value exceeding the old, Such mountains of silver, such torrents of gold!

Yet the schemes of Columbus, however well planned Were scarcely sufficient to find the main land; On the islands alone with the natives he spoke, Except when he entered the great Oronoque:

In this he resembled old Moses, the Jew, Who, roving about with his wrong-headed crew, When at length the reward was no longer denied, From the top of Mount Pisgah he saw it, and died.

These islands and worlds in the watery expanse, Like most mighty things, were the offspring of chance, Since steering for Asia, Columbus they say, Was astonished to find such a world in his way!

No wonder, indeed, he was smit with surprize-- This empire of Nature was new to their eyes-- Cut short in their course by so splendid a scene, Such a region of wonders intruding between!

Yet great as he was, and deserving no doubt, We have only to thank him for finding the rout; These climes to the northward, more stormy and cold, Were reserved for the efforts of Cabot the bold.

Where the sun in December appears to decline Far off to the southward, and south of the line, A merchant[A] of Florence, more fortunate still, Explored a new track, and discovered Brazil:

[A] Americus Vespucius.--_Freneau's note._

Good Fortune, Vespucius, p.r.o.nounced thee her own, Or else to mankind thou hadst scarcely been known-- By giving thy name, thou art ever renowned-- Thy name to a world that another had found!

Columbia, the name was, that merit decreed, But Fortune and Merit have never agreed-- Yet the poets, alone, with commendable care Are vainly attempting the wrong to repair.

The bounds I prescribe to my verse are too narrow To tell of the conquests of Francis Pizarro; And Cortez 'tis needless to bring into view, One Mexico conquered, the other Peru.

Montezuma with credit in verse might be read, But Dryden has told you the monarch[B] is dead!

And the woes of his subjects--what torments they bore, Las Casas, good bishop, has mentioned before:

[B] Indian Emperor, a tragedy.--_Freneau's note._

Let others be fond of their stanzas of grief-- I hate to descant on the fall of the leaf-- Two scenes are so gloomy, I view them with pain, The annals of death, and the triumphs of Spain.

Poor Atahualpa we cannot forget-- He gave them his utmost--yet died in their debt, His wealth was a crime that they could not forgive, And when they possessed it, forbade him to live.

Foredoomed to misfortunes (that come not alone) He was the twelfth Inca that sat on the throne, Who fleecing his brother[C] of half his domains, At the palace of Cusco confined him in chains.

[C] Huascar, who was legal heir to the throne.--_Ib._

But what am I talking--or where do I roam?

'Tis time that our story was brought nearer home-- From Florida's cape did Cabot explore To the fast frozen region of cold Labradore.

In the year fourteen hundred and ninety and eight He came, as the annals of England relate, But finding no gold in the lengthy domain, And coasting the country, he left it again.

Next Davis--then Hudson adventured, they say, One found out a streight, and the other a bay, Whose desolate region, or turbulent wave One present bestowed him--and that was a grave.

In the reign of a virgin (as authors discover) Drake, Hawkins, and Raleigh in squadrons came over While Barlow and Grenville succeeded to these, Who all brought their colonies over the seas.

These, left in a wilderness teeming with woes, The natives, suspicious, concluded them foes, And murdered them all without notice or warning, Ralph Lane, with his vagabonds, scarcely returning.

In the reign of king James (and the first of the name,) George Summers, with Hacluit, to Chesapeake came, Where far in the forests, not doomed to renown, On the river Powhatan[D] they built the first town.[E]

[D] James River, Virginia.--_Freneau's note._

[E] James Town.--_Ib._

Twelve years after this, some scores of dissenters To the northernmost district came seeking adventures; Outdone by the bishops, those great f.a.ggot fighters; They left them to rule with their ca.s.socks and mitres.

Thus banished forever, and leaving the sod, The first land they saw was the pitch of Cape Cod, Where famished with hunger and quaking with cold They planned their New-Plymouth--so called from the old.

They were, without doubt, a delightful collection;-- Some came to be rid of a Stuart's direction, Some sailed with a view to dominion and riches, Some to pray without book, and a few to hang witches.