The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 3 (of 3)

Chapter XV: Appendix (1)

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A. THE AMERICAN VILLAGE, &C.
B. LIST OF OMITTED POEMS.
C. BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POETRY OF PHILIP FRENEAU.

THE AMERICAN VILLAGE.[212]

WHERE yonder stream divides the fertile plain,
Made fertile by the labours of the swain;
And hills and woods high tow'ring o'er the rest,
Behold a village with fair plenty blest:
Each year tall harvests crown the happy field;
Each year the meads their stores of fragrance yield,
And ev'ry joy and ev'ry bliss is there,
And healthful labour crowns the flowing year.

THOUGH _Goldsmith_ weeps in melancholy strains,
Deserted Auburn and forsaken plains,
And mourns his village with a patriot sigh,
And in that village sees Britannia die:
Yet shall this land with rising pomp divine,
In it's own splendor and Britannia's shine.
O muse, forget to paint her ancient woes,
Her Indian battles, or her Gallic foes;
Resume the pleasures of the rural scene,
Describe the village rising on the green,
It's harmless people, born to small command,
Lost in the bosom of this western land:

SO shall my verse run gentle as the floods,
So answer all ye hills, and echo all ye woods;
So glide ye streams in hollow channels pent,
Forever wasting, yet not ever spent.
Ye clust'ring boughs by hoary thickets borne!
Ye fields high waving with eternal corn!
Ye woodland nymphs the tender tale rehearse,
The fabled authors of immortal verse:
Ye Dryads fair, attend the scene I love,
And Heav'n shall centre in yon' blooming grove.
What tho' thy woods, AMERICA, contain
The howling forest, and the tiger's den,
The dang'rous serpent, and the beast of prey,
Men are more fierce, more terrible than they.
No monster with it's vile contagious breath,
No flying scorpion darting instant death;
No pois'nous adder, burning to engage,
Has half the venom or has half the rage.
What tho' the Turk protests to heav'n his ire,
With lift up hand amidst his realms of fire;
And Russia's Empress sends her fleets afar,
To aid the havock of the burning war:
Their rage dismays not, and their arms in vain,
In dreadful fury bathe with blood the plain;
Their terrors harmless, tho' their story heard,
How this one conquer'd, or was nobly spar'd:
Vain is their rage, to us their anger vain,
The deep Atlantic raves and roars between.

TO yonder village then will I descend,
There spend my days, and there my ev'nings spend;
Sweet haunt of peace whose mud' wall'd sides delight,
The rural mind beyond the city bright:
Their tops with hazles or with alders wove,
Remurmur magic to the neighb'ring grove;
And each one lab'ring in his own employ,
Comes weary home at night, but comes with joy:
The soil which lay for many thousand years
O'er run by woods, by thickets and by bears;
Now reft of trees, admits the chearful light,
And leaves long prospects to the piercing sight;
Where once the lynx nocturnal sallies made,
And the tall chestnut cast a dreadful shade:
No more the panther stalks his bloody rounds,
Nor bird of night her hateful note resounds;
Nor howling wolves roar to the rising moon,
As pale arose she o'er yon eastern down.
Some prune their trees, a larger load to bear
Of fruits nectarine blooming once a year:
See groaning waggons to the village come
Fill'd with the apple, apricot or plumb;
And heavy beams suspended from a tree,
To press their juice against the winter's day:
Or see the plough torn through the new made field,
Ordain'd a harvest, yet unknown to yield.
The rising barn whose spacious floor receives
The welcome thousands of the wheaten sheaves,
And spreads it's arms to take the plenteous store,
Sufficient for its master and the poor:
For as Eumoeus us'd his beggar guest
The great Ulysses in his tatters drest:
So here fair Charity puts forth her hand,
And pours her blessings o'er the greatful land:
No needy wretch the rage of winter fears,
Secure he sits and spends his aged years,
With thankful heart to gen'rous souls and kind,
That save him from the winter and the wind.

A LOVELY island once adorn'd the sea,
Between New-Albion and the Mexic' Bay;
Whose sandy sides washed by the ocean wave,
Scarce heard a murmur but what ocean gave:
Small it's circumference, nor high it's coast,
But shady woods the happy isle could boast;
On ev'ry side new prospects catch'd the eye,
There rose blue mountains to the arched sky:
Here thunder'd ocean in convulsive throws,
And dash'd the island as it's waters rose:
Yet peaceful all within, no tumults there,
But fearless steps of the unhunted hare;
And nightly chauntings of the fearless dove,
Or blackbird's note, the harbinger of love.
So peaceful was this haunt that nature gave,
Still as the stars, and silent as the grave;
No loud applause there rais'd the patriot breast,
No shouting armies their mad joy confest,
For battles gain'd, or trophies nobly won,
Or nations conquer'd near the rising sun;
No clam'rous crews, or wild nocturnal cheer,
Or murd'rous ruffians, for no men were here.
On it's east end a grove of oak was seen,
And shrubby hazels fill'd the space between;
Dry alders too, and aspin leaves that shook
With ev'ry wind, conspired to shade a brook,
Whose gentle stream just bubbling from the ground,
Was quickly in the salter ocean drown'd:
Beyond whose fount, the center of the isle,
Wild plumb trees flourish'd on the shaded soil.
In the dark bosom of this sacred wood,
Secluded from the world, and all it's own,
Of other lands unknowing, and unknown.
Here might the hunter have destroy'd his prey,
Transfix'd the goat before the dawn of day;
And trudging homeward with his welcome load,
The fruit of wand'rings thro' each by-way road:
Thrown down his burthen with the needless sigh,
And gladly feasted his small family.
Small fields had then suffic'd, and grateful they,
The annual labours of his hands to pay;
And free his right to search the briny flood
For fish, or slay the creatures of the wood.

THUS spent his days in labour's pleasant pain,
Had liv'd and dy'd the homely shepherd swain:
Had seen his children and his children's heirs,
The fruit of love and memory of years
To agriculture's first fair service bent,
The work of mortals, and their great intent.
So had the Sire his days of pleasure known,
And wish'd to change no country for his own:
So had he with his fair endearing wife,
Pass'd the slow circle of a harmless life;
With happy ignorance divinely blest,
The path, the centre and the home of rest.
Long might the sun have run his bright career,
And long the moon her mantled visage rear;
And long the stars their nightly vigils kept,
And spheres harmonious either sung or wept:
He had not dream'd of worlds besides his own,
And thought them only stars, beyond the moon;
Enjoy'd himself, nor hear'd of future hell,
Or heav'n, the recompence of doing well;
Had scarcely thought of an eternal state,
And left his being in the hands of fate.--
O had this isle such souls sublime contain'd,
And there for ages future sons remain'd:
But envious time conspiring with the sea,
Wash'd all it's landscapes, and it's groves away.
It's trees declining, stretch'd upon the sand,
No more their shadows throw across the land.
It's vines no more their clust'ring beauty show,
Nor sturdy oaks embrace the mountain's brow.
Bare sands alone now overwhelm the coast,
Lost in it's grandeur, and it's beauty lost.

THUS, tho' my fav'rite isle to ruin gone,
Inspires my sorrow, and demands my moan;
Yet this wide land it's place can well supply
With landscapes, hills and grassy mountains high.
O HUDSON! thy fair flood shall be my theme,
Thy winding river, or thy glassy stream;
On whose tall banks tremendous rocks I spy,
Dread nature in primæval majesty.
Rocks, to whose summits clouds eternal cling,
Or clust'ring birds in their wild wood notes sing.
Hills, from whose sides the mountain echo roars,
Rebounding dreadful from the distant shores;
Or vallies, where refreshing breezes blow,
And rustic huts in fair confusion grow,
Safe from the winds, secur'd by mountains high,
That seem to hide the concave of the sky;
To whose top oft' the curious hind ascends,
And wonders where the arch'd horizon bends;
Pleas'd with the distant prospects rising new,
And hills o'er hills, a never ending view.
Through various paths with hasty step he scours,
And breathes the odours of surrounding flow'rs,
Caught from their bosoms by the fragrant breath,
Of western breezes, or the gale of death.[A]
Then low descending, seeks the humble dome,
And centres all his pleasures in his home,
'Till day returning, brings the welcome toil,
To clear the forest, or to tame the soil;
To burn the woods, or catch the tim'rous deer,
To scour the thicket, or contrive the snare.

[A] South wind.--_Freneau's note._

SUCH was the life our great fore-fathers led,
The golden season now from Britain fled,
E'er since dread commerce stretch'd the nimble sail,
And sent her wealth with ev'ry foreign gale.--
Strange fate, but yet to ev'ry country known,
To love all other riches but it's own.
Thus fell the mistress of the conquer'd earth,
Great ROME, who owed to ROMULUS her birth.
Fell to the monster Luxury, a prey,
Who forc'd a hundred nations to obey.
She whom nor mighty CARTHAGE could withstand,
Nor strong JUDEA'S once thrice holy land:
She all the west, and BRITAIN could subdue,
While vict'ry with the ROMAN eagles flew;
She, she herself eternal years deny'd,
Like ROME she conquer'd, but by ROME she dy'd:
But if AMERICA, by this decay,
The world itself must fall as well as she.
No other regions latent yet remain,
This spacious globe has been research'd in vain.
Round it's whole circle oft' have navies gone,
And found but sea or lands already known.
When she has seen her empires, cities, kings,
Time must begin to flap his weary wings;
The earth itself to brighter days aspire,
And wish to feel the purifying fire.

NOR think this mighty land of old contain'd
The plund'ring wretch, or man of bloody mind:
Renowned SACHEMS once their empires rais'd
On wholesome laws; and sacrifices blaz'd.
The gen'rous soul inspir'd the honest breast,
And to be free, was doubly to be blest:
'Till the east winds did here COLUMBUS blow,
And wond'ring nations saw his canvas flow.
'Till here CABOT descended on the strand,
And hail'd the beauties of the unknown land;
And rav'nous nations with industrious toil,
Conspir'd to rob them of their native soil:
Then bloody wars, and death and rage arose,
And ev'ry tribe resolv'd to be our foes.
Full many a feat of them I could rehearse,
And actions worthy of immortal verse:
Deeds ever glorious to the INDIAN name,
And fit to rival GREEK or ROMAN fame,
But one sad story shall my Muse relate,
Full of paternal love, and full of fate;
Which when ev'n yet the northern shepherd hears,
It swells his breast, and bathes his face in tears,
Prompts the deep groan, and lifts the heaving sigh,
Or brings soft torrents from the female eye.

FAR in the arctic skies, where HUDSON'S BAY
Rolls it's cold wave and combats with the sea,
A dreary region lifts it's dismal head,
True sister to the regions of the dead.
Here thund'ring storms continue half the year,
Or deep-laid snows their joyless visage rear:
Eternal rocks, from whose prodigious steep
The angry tiger stuns the neighb'ring deep;
While through the wild wood, or the shrouded plain,
The moose deer seeks his food, but often seeks in vain:
Yet in this land, froze by inclement skies,
The Indian huts in wild succession rise;
And daily hunting, when the short-liv'd spring
Shoots joyous forth, th' industrious people bring
Their beaver spoils beneath another sky,
PORT NELSON, and each BRITISH factory:
In slender boats from distant lands they sail,
Their small masts bending to the inland gale,
On traffic sent to gain the little store,
Which keeps them plenteous, tho' it keeps them poor.
Hither CAFFRARO in his flighty boat,
One hapless spring his furry riches brought;
And with him came, for sail'd he not alone,
His consort COLMA, and his little son.
While yet from land o'er the deep wave he plough'd,
And tow'rds the shore with manly prowess row'd.
His barque unfaithful to it's trusted freight,
Sprung the large leak, the messenger of fate;
But no lament or female cry was heard,
Each for their fate most manfully prepar'd,
From bubbling waves to send the parting breath
To lands of shadows, and the shade of death.
O FATE! unworthy such a tender train,
O day, lamented by the Indian swain!
Full oft' of it the strippling youth shall hear,
And sadly mourn their fortune with a tear:
The Indian maids full oft' the tale attend,
And mourn their COLMA as they'd mourn a friend.

NOW while in waves the barque demerg'd, they strive,
Dead with despair, tho' nature yet alive:
Forth from the shore a friendly brother flew,
In one small boat, to save the drowning crew.
He came, but in his barque of trifling freight,
Could save but two, and one must yield to fate.
O dear CAFFRARO, said the hapless wife,
O save our son, and save thy dearer life:
'Tis thou canst teach him how to hunt the doe,
Transfix the buck, or tread the mountain snow,
Let me the sentence of my fate receive,
And to thy care my tender infant leave.
He sigh'd, nor answer'd, but as firm as death,
Resolv'd to save her with his latest breath:
And as suspended by the barque's low side,
He rais'd the infant from the chilling tide,
And plac'd it safe; he forc'd his COLMA too
To save herself, what more could mortal do?
But nobly scorning life, she rais'd her head
From the flush'd wave, and thus divinely said:

OF life regardless, I to fate resign,
But thou, CAFFRARO, art forever mine.
O let thy arms no future bride embrace,
Remember COLMA, and her beauteous face,
Which won thee youthful in thy gayest pride,
With captives, trophies, victors at thy side;
Now I shall quick to blooming regions fly,
A spring eternal, and a nightless sky,
Far to the west, where radiant Sol descends,
And wonders where the arch'd horizon ends:
There shall my soul thy lov'd idea keep,
And 'till thy image comes, unceasing weep.
There, tho' the tiger is but all a shade,
And mighty panthers but the name they had;
And proudest hills, and lofty mountains there,
Light as the wind, and yielding as the air;
Yet shall our souls their ancient feelings have,
More strong, more noble than this side the grave.
There lovely blossoms blow throughout the year,
And airy harvests rise without our care:
And all our sires and mighty ancestors,
Renown'd for battles and successful wars,
Behold their sons in fair succession rise,
And hail them happy to serener skies.
There shall I see thee too, and see with joy
Thy future charge, my much lov'd Indian boy:
The thoughtless infant, whom with tears I see,
Once sought my breast, or hung upon my knee;
Tell him, ah tell him, when in manly years,
His dauntless mind, nor death nor danger fears,
Tell him, ah tell him, how thy COLMA dy'd,
His fondest mother, and thy youthful bride:
Point to my tomb thro' yonder furzy glade,
And show where thou thy much lov'd COLMA laid.
O may I soon thy blest resemblance see,
And my sweet infant all reviv'd in thee.
'Till then I'll haunt the bow'r or lonely shade,
Or airy hills for contemplation made,
And think I see thee in each ghostly shoal,
And think I clasp thee to my weary soul.
Oft, oft thy form to my expecting eye,
Shall come in dreams with gentle majesty;
Then shall I joy to find my bliss began
To love an angel, whom I lov'd a man!
She said, and downward in the hoary deep
Plung'd her fair form to everlasting sleep;
Her parting soul it's latest struggle gave,
And her last breath came bubbling thro' the wave.

THEN sad CAFFRARO all his grief declares,
And swells the torrent of the gulph with tears;
And senseless stupid to the shore is borne
In death-like slumbers, 'till the rising morn,
Then sorrowing, to the sea his course he bent
Full sad, but knew not for what cause he went,
'Till, sight distressing, from the lonely strand,
He saw dead COLMA wafting to the land.
Then in a stupid agony of pray'r,
He rent his mantle, and he tore his hair;
Sigh'd to the stars, and shook his honour'd head,
And only wish'd a place among the dead!
O had the winds been sensible of grief,
Or whisp'ring angels come to his relief;
Then had the rocks not echo'd to his pain,
Nor hollow mountains answer'd him again:
Then had the floods their peaceful courses kept,
Nor the sad pine in all it's murmurs wept;
Nor pensive deer stray'd through the lonely grove,
Nor sadly wept the sympathising dove.--
Thus far'd the sire through his long days of pain,
Or with his offspring rov'd the silent plain;
Till years approaching, bow'd his sacred head
Deep in the dust, and sent him to the dead:
Where now perhaps in some strange fancy'd land,
He grasps the airy bow, and flies across the strand;
Or with his COLMA shares the fragrant grove,
It's vernal blessings, and the bliss of love.

FAREWELL lamented pair, and whate'er state
Now clasps you round, and sinks you deep in fate;
Whether the firey kingdom of the sun,
Or the slow wave of silent Acheron,
Or Christian's heaven, or planetary sphere,
Or the third region of the cloudless air;
Or if return'd to dread nihility,
You'll still be happy, for you will not be.

NOW fairest village of the fertile plain,
Made fertile by the labours of the swain;
Who first my drowsy spirit did inspire,
To sing of woods, and strike the rural lyre:
Who last shou'd see me wand'ring from thy cells,
And groves of oak where contemplation dwells,
Wou'd fate but raise me o'er the smaller cares,
Of Life unwelcome and distressful years,
Pedantic labours and a hateful ease,
Which scarce the hoary wrinkled sage cou'd please.
Hence springs each grief, each long reflective sigh,
And not one comfort left but poetry.
Long, long ago with her I could have stray'd,
To woods, to thickets or the mountain shade;
Unfit for cities and the noisy throng,
The drunken revel and the midnight song;
The gilded beau and scenes of empty joy,
Which please a moment and forever die.
Here then shall center ev'ry wish, and all
The tempting beauties of this spacious ball:
No thought ambitious, and no bold design,
But heaven born contemplation shall be mine.
In yonder village shall my fancy stray,
Nor rove beyond the confines of to-day;
The aged volumes of some plain divine,
In broken order round my hut shou'd shine;
Whose solemn lines should soften all my cares,
And sound devotion to th' eternal stars:
And if one sin my rigid breast did stain,
Thou poetry shou'dst be the darling sin;
Which heav'n without repentance might forgive,
And which an angel might commit and live:
And where yon' wave of silent water falls,
O'er the smooth rock or Adamantine walls:
The summer morns and vernal eves should see,
MILTON, immortal bard my company;
Or SHAKESPEARE, DRYDEN, each high sounding name,
The pride of BRITAIN, and one half her fame:
Or him who wak'd the fairy muse of old,
And pleasing tales of lands inchanted told.
Still in my hand, he his soft verse shou'd find
His verse, the picture of the poets mind:
Or heav'nly POPE, who now harmonious mourns,
"Like the rapt seraph that adores and burns."
Then in sharp satire, with a giant's might,
Forbids the blockhead and the fool to write:
And in the centre of the bards be shown
The deathless lines of godlike ADDISON;
Who, bard thrice glorious, all delightful flows,
And wrapt the soul of poetry in prose.

NOW cease, O muse, thy tender tale to chaunt,
The smiling village, or the rural haunt;
New scenes invite me, and no more I rove,
To tell of shepherds, or the vernal grove.

[212] "The American Village," Freneau's first distinct poetical publication, was for many years known only from his description of it in a letter to Madison (see Vol. I, page xxii, _supra_). It was supposed to have been lost, until a copy was discovered in a volume of miscellaneous pamphlets which had been purchased by the Library of Congress in November, 1902. A second copy, still more recently discovered, is now in the John Carter Brown Library at Brown University. I have reproduced the entire text of this little volume with the original punctuation and spelling, using however the modern form of the "s", and correcting the _errata_ noted by the author.

THE FARMER'S WINTER EVENING

A POEM

_To the_ NYMPH _I never saw_.

FAR be the pleasures of the day,
And mirth and festive joy from me,
When cold December nips the plains,
Or frozen January reigns.
Far he the hunts-man's noisy horn,
And coursers fleet thro' thickets borne,
Swift as the wind, and far the sight,
Of snowy mountains, sadly white;
But thou, O night, with sober charms,
Shall clasp me in thy sable arms.
For thee I love the winter eve,
The noisy day for thee I leave.
Beneath some mountain's tow'ring height,
In cottage low I hail the night,
Where jovial swains, with heart sincere,
And timely mirth dishearten care:
Each tells his tale, or chaunts a song
Of her for whom he sigh'd so long;
Of CLARA fair, or FLORA coy,
Disdaining still her shepherd boy,
While near the hoary headed sage,
Recalls the days of youthful age,
Describes his course of manly years,
His journey thro' this vale of tears;
How champion he with champions met,
And fiercely did they combat it,
'Till envious night in ebon chair,
Urg'd faster on her chariotteer,
And robb'd him, O for shame, of glory
And feats fit for renown in story.--
Thus spent in tales the ev'ning hour,
And quaffing juice of sober pow'r,
Which handsome KATE with malt did steep,
To lead on balmy visag'd sleep,
While her neat hand the milk pail strains,
A sav'ry supper for the swains.
And now the moon exalted high,
Gives lustre to the earth and sky,
And from the mighty ocean's glass,
Reflects the beauty of her face:
About her orb you may behold,
A thousand stars of burnish'd gold,
Which slowly to the west retire,
And lose awhile their glitt'ring fire.

O COULD I here find my abode,
And live within this fancy'd wood,
With thee the weeks and years to pass,
My pretty rural shepherdess;
With thee the cooling spring to sip,
Or live upon thy damask lip:
Then sacred groves, and shades divine,
And all ARCADIA should be mine.
Steep me, steep me some poppies deep
In beechen bowl, to bring on sleep;
Love hath my mind in shackles kept,
Thrice the cock crew, nor once I slept.
O gentle sleep, wrap me in dreams,
Of fields and woods, and running streams;
Of rivers wide, and castles rare,
And be my lovely FLORA there:
A larger draught, a larger bowl
To gratify my drowsy soul;
"A larger draught is yet in store,
Perhaps with this you wake no more."
Then I my lovely maid shall see thee
Drinking the deep streams of LETHE,
Where now dame ARETHUSA scatters
Her soft stream with ALPHEUS' waters,
To forget her earthly cares,
Lost in LETHE, lost in years!
And I too will quaff the water,
Lest it should be said, O daughter
Of my giddy, wand'ring brain,
I sigh'd for one I've never seen.

THE MISERABLE LIFE OF A PEDAGOGUE[213]

TO form the manners of our youth,
To guide them in the way of truth,
To lead them through the jarring schools,
Arts, sciences, and grammar rules;
Is certainly an arduous work,
Enough to tire out Jew or Turk;
And make a christian bite his nails,
For do his best, he surely fails;
And spite of all that some may say,
His praise is trifling as his pay.

FOR My part I, tho' vers'd in booking,
Still sav'd my carcase from such cooking;
And always slyly shunn'd a trade,
Too trifling as I thought and said;
But at a certain crazy season,
When men have neither sense or reason;
By some confounded misadventure,
I found myself just in it's centre.

ODD'S fish and blood, and noun and neuter,
And tenses present, past and future:
I utter'd with a wicked sigh,
Where are my brains, or where am I?
The dullest creature of the wood,
Knows how to shun the distant flood;
Whales, dolphins, and a hundred more,
Are not the fools to run ashore.

WELL, now contented I must be,
Forc'd by the dame Necessity,
Who like the tribunal of Spain,
Let's you speak once, but not again;
And swift to execute the blow,
Ne'er tells you why or whence it's so.

NOW I am ask'd a thousand questions,
Of ALEXANDERS and EPHESTIONS;
With sly designs to know if I
Am vers'd in GRECIAN history;
And then again my time destroy,
With aukward grace to tell of TROY:
From that huge giant POLYPHEMUS,
Quite down to ROMULUS and REMUS.
Then I'm oblig'd to give them lectures,
On quadrants, circles, squares and sectors;
Or in my wretched mem'ry bear,
What weighs a cubic inch of air.

"SIR, here's my son, I beg you'd mind,
The graces have been very kind,
And on him all their blessings shed,
[Except a genius and a head]
Teach him the doctrine of the sphere,
The sliding circle and the square,
And starry worlds, I know not where:
And let him quickly learn to say,
Those learned words Penna, Pennae;
Which late I heard our parson call
As learning, knowledge all in all."

AND then a city dame approaches,
Known by her horsemen, chairs and coaches:
"Sir, here's my son, teach him to speak
The Hebrew, Latin, and the Greek:
And this I half forgot, pray teach
My tender boy--the parts of speech--
But never let this son of me,
Learn that vile thing astronomy:
Upon my word it's all a sham,"--
O I'm your humble servant ma'am.
There certainly is something in it--
"Boy, drive the coach off in a minute."
And thus I'm left in street or road,
A laughing stock to half the crowd,
To argue with myself the case,
And prove its being to my face.

A plague I say on such employment,
Where's neither pleasure nor enjoyment:
Whoe'er to such a life is ty'd,
Was born the day he should have dy'd;
Born in an hour when angry spheres
Were tearing caps, or pulling ears:
And Saturn slow 'gainst swift Mercurius,
Was meditating battles furious;
Or comets with their blazing train,
Decreed their life, a life of pain.

[213] This poem was undoubtedly written while Freneau was conducting his school at Flatbush early in 1772. See Vol. I, page xxi.

UPON A VERY ANCIENT DUTCH HOUSE ON LONG ISLAND.[214]

Behold this antique dome by envious time,
Grown crazy, and in ev'ry part decay'd;
Full well, alas, it claims my humble rhyme,
For such lone haunts and contemplation made.

Ah see the hearth, where once the chearful fire
Blaz'd high, and warm'd the winter trav'lers toes;
And see the walls, which once did high aspire,
Admit the storms, and ev'ry wind that blows.

In yonder corner, now to ruin gone,
The ancient housewife's curtain'd bed appear'd,
Where she and her man JOHN did sleep alone,
Nor nightly robber, nor the screech owl fear'd.

There did they snore full oft' the whole night out,
Smoking the sable pipe, 'till that did fall,
Reft from their jaws by Somnus' sleepy rout,
And on their faces pour'd its scorched gall.

And in the compass of yon' smaller gang,
The swain BATAVIAN once his courtship made,
To some DUTCH lass, as thick as she was long;
"Come then, my angel, come," the shepherd said,

"And let us for the bridal bed prepare;
For you alone shall ease my future life,
And you alone shall soften all my care,
My strong, my hearty, and industrious wife."

Thus they--but eating ruin now hath spread
Its wings destructive o'er the antique dome;
The mighty fabrick now is all a shed,
Scarce fit to be the wand'ring beggar's home.

And none but me it's piteous fate lament,
None, none but me o'er it's sad ashes mourn,
Sent by the fates, and by APOLLO sent,
To shed their latest tears upon it's silent urn.

[214] This is the germ of the poem, "The Deserted Farm-House," Vol. I, p. 40, _supra_. A comparison of the two versions will illustrate the thorough way in which Freneau often revised his poems.

B. LIST OF OMITTED POEMS.

It has been found necessary for various reasons to omit some of the poems that appear in the various editions of Freneau. For the most part this omitted material has no historic or poetic significance. Nothing would be gained by resurrecting it. It is only just to the poet, however, to state that aside from a single piece, nothing has been omitted on account of coarseness alone. In each case the earliest known title is given in the list that follows. When a title was significantly changed in later editions, the variation has been given in a foot note, with date of edition.

FROM THE 1786 EDITION.

Epitaph Intended for the Tombstone of Patrick Bay, an Irish
Soldier and Innholder, Killed by an Ignorant
Physician.--1769.[215]

Epitaph on Peter Abelard. From the Latin.

The Distrest Orator. [Occasioned by R---- A----'s memory
failing him in the midst of a public discourse he had got by
rote.][216]

The Retort.[217]

The Flagellators.

Humanity and Ingratitude; A Common Case. [From the French.]
December 1784.[218]

Elegaic Verses on the Death of a favorite Dog, 1785.[219]

The Five Ages.

New Year's Verses, Addressed to the Customers of the
Pennsylvania Evening Post, by the Printer's Lad who carries
it. January 4, 1783.

The Literary Plunderers.[220]

FROM THE 1788 EDITION.

The Scornful Lady.

The Prisoner.

Few Honest Coblers; A Poem. In Imitation of Dr. Watts's
_Indian Philosopher_.

The Almanac Maker.

Female Caprice; or, the Student's Complaint.

The Drunken Soldier. A Parody.

St. Preux to Eloisa.

The Fiddler's Farewell.[221]

The Modern Miracle.[222]

The Dull Moralist.[223]

The Misfortune of March. [Written in the pastoral style of the
old British Poets.][224]

Elegaic Lines.

Highland Sawney.[225]

FROM THE 1795 EDITION.

Epistolary Lines on the Death of a Fiddler.

Farmer Dobbins's Complaint.

The Debtor's Soliloquy.

The Fair Buckle-Thief.

Advice to the Ladies, Not to Neglect the Dentist.

Lines to the memory of a young American Lady; who died soon
after her Arrival in London.

The Market Girl.

Elegaic Stanzas on a Young Gentleman Drowned in a Mill-Pond.

The Drunkard's Apology.[226]

On a Painter who was Endeavouring to Recover, from Memory, the
Features of a Deceased Young Lady.

Marriage A-la Mode; (Or the Run-a-way Match.)

The Bridge of Delaware.

Minerva's Advice.

Mars and Venus.

Charity A-la-Mode.[227]

The Invalid.

Under the Portraiture of Martha Ray.

Epistle to a Gay Young Lady that was Married to a Doating old
Deacon.[228]

The Menace.[229]

The Prudent Philosopher.

The Origin of Wars.

Lines Written in a Severe February on a Shad, &c., caught in a
Mild January.

Epitaph on Frederick the Second, late King of Prussia. [From
the French.]

A Dialogue between Shadrach and Whiffle.

To the memory of a Lady.[230]

To Clarissa: a handsome Shop-Keeper.

To Cynthia.

To a Very Little Man, Fond of Walking with a Very Long Cane.

The Rural Bachelor.

To Messieurs Fungus, Froth, and Co.

Shadrach and Pomposo: A Tale.

On Pest-Eli-Hali, the Traveling Speculator.[231]

Elegiac lines on a Theological Script-Monger.

On the Approaching Dissolution of Transatlantic Jurisdiction
in America.

FROM THE 1809 EDITION.

Translation of the Third Elegy of the First Book of Ovid's
Tristia.

Description of the Plague which Happened at Athens ... From
the Sixth Book of Lucretius on the Nature of Things.

Love's Suicide. Stanzas Intended for the Tomb Stone of a
Person who Killed Himself in Consequence of his Suit being
Rejected by a Young Lady.

Translation, from Ovid's Tristia. Book 3d, Elegy 3d.

Stanzas Written near a Certain Clergyman's Garden.

On a Nocturnal View of the Planet Jupiter, and several of his
Satellites, through a Telescope.

The Fading Rose.

A College Story.

On a Man Killed by a Buffaloe (or wild Cow.)

To the Dog Sancho, on his being Wounded in the Head with a
Sabre, in a Midnight Assault and Robbery, near the Neversink
Hills, 1778.

Science, Favourable to Virtue.

Reflections on the Constitution, or Frame of Nature.

On the Powers of the Human Understanding.

Lines Written in a very Small Garden.

Nereus and Thetis.

A Usurer's Prayer.

Suicide: the Weakness of the Human Mind. A Marine Anecdote.

The Gougers: on Seeing a Traveller Gouged, and otherwise ill
treated by some Citizens of Logtown, near a Pine Barren.

Lines written for Mr. Ricketts, on the Exhibitions at his
Equestrian Circus.

Monumental Lines, Addressed to a Disconsolate Person, that was
Successively Enamoured of Two Sisters, who Died of a
Consumption within about Two Years of Each other, in the Prime
of Youth and Beauty.

Esperanza's March: being Stanzas, Addressed to a Person who
Complained "He was always unfortunate."

FROM THE 1815 EDITION.

The New Age; or Truth Triumphant.

On Superstition.

The Royal Apprentice, A London Story.

The Modern Jehu; or, Nobility on Four Wheels.

On a Lady, Now Deceased, that had been both Deaf and Blind
Many Years.

The Mistake; a Modern Short Story.

Lines written in a french novel, Adelaide and Durval.

Human Frailty.

On Happiness, as proceeding from the practice of Virtue.

Ode to Good Fortune.

Reflections on doctor Perkins' metallic points, or tractors.

Publius to Pollia. Supposed to have been written during a
cruising expedition.

On the Uniformity and Perfection of Nature.

Translation of Gray's Ode, Written at the grand Chartreuse.

On the Universality and Other Attributes of the God of Nature.

On the Religion of Nature.

The Reward of Innocence.

On the Evils of Human Life.

The Scurrilous Scribe.

Belief and Unbelief: humbly recommended to the serious
consideration of creed makers.

Susanna's Tomb.

Stanzas on a Political Projector, who was making interest, to
be employed on an embassy to Constantinople.

Nature's Debt.

New Year's Eve.

The Order of the Day: to readers of the history of wars
ancient and modern.

The Bethlehemite; or, fair solitary.

The Hermit and the Traveller.

Lines on the Establishment of the New Theatre, and the
management of the house being placed in the hands of Mr.
Cooper.

The Musical Savage. Supposed to express, to the musician, the
extatic emotions of a missouri indian, on his first hearing
the violin played, or band of music, that accompanied captain
Lewis on his expedition to the Columbia-River.

Epitaph on a worthy person, whose decease closed a series of
fortune and misfortune in his 50th year.

Written at Poplar-Hill,--Pennsylvania.

The Blast of November. Occasioned by a fatal accident on the
Hudson.

The Duelists.

On Seeing a Beautiful Print of a Shipwrecked Sailor sitting on
a Rock.

Heaving the Lead: a Marine Story, Founded on Fact.

Translated from the Third Book of Lucretius _de natura rerum_,
or, On the nature of Things.

The Two Genii: Addressed to a young Lady, of a consumptive
habit, departing from New-York, by sea, for South-Carolina, in
1805.

The Hypochondriac.

On Finding a Terrapin in the Woods, which had A. D. 1756
Marked on the Back of his Shell.

Pythona: or the Prophetess of En-Dor.

To Ismenia.

[215] Epitaph Intended for the Tombstone of Patrick Bay, Innholder, Killed by an Ignorant Physician.--1809.

[216] Lines on a Distrest Orator, at a Public Exhibition.--1809. This was an undergraduate skit by Freneau on his college mate Robert Archibald, of the Class of 1772.

[217] To My Lord Snake, [A Title Hunter.]--1795. The Impertinent.--1809.

[218] Humanity and Ingratitude, A Common Case. [Translated from the French.]--1795.

[219] To a Deceased Dog.--1795.

[220] Devastations in a Library.--1795. On Devastations Committed in a Bookseller's Library, by Rats, Mice, &c.--1809.

[221] The Minstrel's Complaint.--1795.

[222] Susanna's Revival.--1795.

[223] To the Grand Mufti.--1795.

[224] Palaemon: or, the Skaiter.--1795.

[225] Highland Sawney, or the Emigrant Beau.--1795.

[226] An Apology for Intemperance.--1809.

[227] Merchantile Charity.--1809.

[228] The Preposterous Nuptials: or, January and June.--1809.

[229] The Nova Scotia Menace.--1809.

[230] To the Memory of Mrs. Burnet of Elizabeth-town, N. J. By Request.--1809.

[231] On a Travelling Speculator.--1809.

C. BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POETRY OF PHILIP FRENEAU

The following is a list of the individual and collected poetical publications of Freneau. For a more complete view of the poet's literary activities the reader is referred to the painstaking and admirable "Bibliography of the separate and collected works of Philip Freneau," by Mr. Victor Hugo Paltsits (N. Y., Dodd, Mead & Co., 1903). Opportunity has been taken here to bring the list up to date, to correct a few omissions and errors in Mr. Paltsits' volume, and to locate copies whose existence he overlooked. To avoid confusion the abbreviations used by him have been retained, viz: AAS = American Antiquarian Society, Worcester, Mass.; BA = Boston Athenæum, Boston, Mass.; BM = British Museum, London, England; BPL = Boston Public Library, Boston, Mass.; BU = Brown University Library, Providence, R. I.; C = Library of Congress, Washington, D. C.; GSMT = General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen, N. Y. City; HC = Harvard University Library, Cambridge, Mass.; HSP = Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.; LCP = Library Company of Philadelphia, Pa.; MHS = Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston, Mass.; NA = New York Public Library, Astor Foundation, N. Y. City; NJSL = New Jersey State Library, Trenton, N. J.; NkPL = Newark Free Public Library, Newark, N. J.; NL = New York Public Library, Lenox Foundation, N. Y. City; NYHS = New York Historical Society, N. Y. City; NYSL = New York State Library, Albany, N. Y.; PU = Princeton University Library, Princeton, N. J.; SPL = Springfield Public Library, Springfield, Mass.

1772

New York:| Printed by S. Inslee and A. Car, on Moor's Wharf.| M, DCC, LXXII.| 12mo; pp. [1]-27, [1].

See Vol. I, xxii, and Vol. III, Appendix A, _supra_. _Copies_: BU, C.

1772

See Vol. I, xxi, and 49, _supra_. _Copies_: BU, C, HSP, MHS,
NYHS, PU.

1775

American Liberty,| a | Poem.| [_Quotations one line from Virgil and two lines from Pope_].|

New-York:| Printed by J. Anderson, at Beekman-Slip.| MDCCLXXV.| 12mo; pp. 3-12.

See Vol. I, 142, _supra_. _Copies_: C, LCP.

1775

General Gage's Soliloquy. New York: Printed by Hugh Gaine, 1775.

No printed copy of this has thus far been discovered. A manuscript
copy of unknown origin is in the Du Simitière collection of the
Library Company of Philadelphia. Endorsed upon it are the words
"Printed in New York August. 1775. By Gaine." See Vol. I, 152
_supra_.

1775

New-York: Printed by John Anderson,| at Beekman's Slip.| 12mo; pp. [III]-IV, [5]-24.

See Vol. I, 158, _supra_. _Copies_: C, LCP, NYHS.

1775

A reprint of the Anderson edition. _Copies_: AAS, HSP, NYHS, PU.

1775

Printed in the Year, 1775.| Small 8vo; pp. [3]-8.

The copy in the possession of the Library Company of Philadelphia is
at present believed to be unique. Written on the title page by a
contemporary hand are the words "By Gaine. Published October 25:
1775."

1778

Philadelphia: | Printed, by Robert Bell, in Third-Street.| M DCC LXXVIII.| 12mo.

The main work is by James Murray. Freneau's poem, pp. [113]-126
of the volume, has the title page:

Philadelphia: Printed, by Robert Bell, in Third-Street.| M DCC
LXXVIII.|

The same sheets were used to form part VI of "Miscellanies | for
| Sentimentalists," published the same year by Bell.

See Vol. I, 271, _supra_. _Copy_: HSP.

1779

Sir Henry Clinton's Invitation to the Refugees.

The only evidence at present of the separate publication of this piece
is the entry in Frank Moore's _Songs and Ballads of the American
Revolution_ (N. Y. 1856, p. 259): "We have it in a ballad sheet,
dated 1779."

See Vol. II, p. 7, _supra_.

1781

The British Prison-Ship:|A | Poem,| in four Cantoes.|

{ 1. The Capture,
{ 2. The Prison-Ship,
Viz. Canto { 3. The Prison-Ship, continued,
{ 4. The Hospital-Prison-Ship.

Philadelphia:| Printed by F. Bailey, in Market-Street.| M. DCC. LXXXI.| 12mo; pp. [3]-23.

See Vol. II, p. 18, _supra_. _Copies_: BU, LCP, NYHS.

1783

See Vol. II, p. 197, _supra_. _Copy_: C.

1783

New Year's Verses, addressed to The Customers of the Pennsylvania Evening Post, by the Printer's Lad who carries it. January 4, 1783.

This is known only through the version in the 1786 edition of
Freneau's poems, pp. 383-385. It was undoubtedly first issued
as a broadside.

1783

See Vol. II, p. 198, _supra_. _Copy_: C.

1784

Reprinted in the 1786 edition, pp. 387-388; in the 1795 edition, p.
265; and in the 1809 edition, Vol. II, pp. 161-162. In the two latter
versions, with the title changed to "A News-man's Address," the
original first line:

"How things are chang'd since last New Year"

was altered to read:

"What tempests gloomed the by-past year--"

See Vol. II, p. 238, _supra_. _Copy_: HSP.

1784

New Year's Verses, Addressed To the Customers of the Freeman's Journal, by the Lad who carries it. January 7, 1784.

The original broadside has not been found. The only version at present
known is in the 1786 edition, pp. 389-390. See Vol. II, p. 240,
_supra_.

1785

New Year's Verses, addressed to the Customers of the Freeman's Journal, by the Lad who Carries it. January 1, 1785.

The first trace of this is to be found in the 1786 edition,
pp. 391-393. It was doubtless first issued as a broadside.
See Vol. II, p. 284, _supra_.

1786

New Year's Verses, for 1786. [Written for the Carriers of the _Columbian Herald_.]

The first trace to be found of this is in the 1788 edition,
pp. 142-144. This is signed "Charleston (S. C.) _Jan. 1786_."
It doubtless appeared as a broadside. See Vol. II, p. 301, _supra_.

1786

Philadelphia:| Printed by Francis Bailey, at | Yorick's Head, in Market street. | M DCC LXXXVI.|

Small 8vo; pp. [v]-vii, [1]-407.

This is the first collected edition of Freneau's poems. See Vol. I,
p. xxxix-xli, _supra_. _Copies_: BM, BPL, BU, C, HSP, LCP, MHS, NA,
NL, NYHS, NYSL, PU.

1787

Philadelphia; Printed by Francis Bailey, at Yorick's Head, in | Market-street.| M DCC LXXXVII.| 12mo; pp. vi, [7]-28.

See Vol. II, p. 388, _supra_. _Copies_: BU, C, NYHS, PU.

1788

New Year's Verses for 1788. [Supposed to be written by the Printer's lad, who supplies the customers with his weekly paper.]

The first trace of this is in the 1788 edition, pp. 393-395. It was
doubtless first issued as a broadside for some newspaper. See Vol. II,
p. 383, _supra_.

1788

Philadelphia:| Printed by Francis Bailey, at Yorick's | Head, in Market Street.| M DCC LXXXVIII.| Small 12mo; pp. xii [1]-429.

The second collected edition of Freneau's poems. It contained no
poems that had been published in the first collection. See Vol. I,
p. xliii, _supra_. _Copies:_ BM, BPL, BU, C, HSP, LCP, MHS, NA, NL,
NYHS, NYSL, PU.

1794

Philadelphia: | Printed by Hoff and Derrick,| M, DCC, XCIV.| Small 8vo; pp. [3]-16.

See Vol. II, p. 14, _supra_. _Copies:_ BU, HSP.

1795

The third collected edition of Freneau. See Vol. I, pp. lxvi-lxviii,
_supra_. _Copies:_ AAS, BA, BM, BPL, BU, C, HC, HSP, LCP, MHS,
NL, NYHS, NYSL, PU, SPL, GSMT, NkPL.

1797

On pp. 20-21 Ode | (Composed for the Occasion, by P. Freneau.)
The Musick performed | by the Uranian Musical Society.| See
Vol. III, p. 152, _supra_. _Copy:_ NL.

1797

Megara and Altavola. To a female satirist (an English actress) on receiving from her no. 1 of a very satirical and biting attack.

Six copies only were printed, of which none is at present known
to exist. See the 1809 edition, Vol. II, p. 30; and Vol. III,
p. 146, _supra_.

1798

New Year's Verses.

Issued as a broadside for the _Time Piece_ and dated "January 1,
1798." The only copy that is known at present is bound with the
file _Time Piece_ in the library of the New York Historical
Society. See Vol. III, p. 194, _supra_.

1809

Philadelphia: From the Press of Lydia R. Bailey, No. 10.| North-Alley.| 1809.| 2 vols.; 12mo; Vol. I, pp. 280, iv; Vol. II, pp. 302, XII.

This is generally known as the fourth collected edition. See
Vol. I, p. lxxxiv-lxxxvi, _supra_. _Copies_: BM, BPL, BU, C,
HSP, LCP, NL, NYHS, NYSL, PU, NJSL.

1809

Philadelphia: | Printed for Thomas Neversink.| December 20, 1809.| 12mo; pp. [3]-24.

A reprint with few variations of the 1787 edition. See Vol. II,
p. 338, _supra_. _Copies_: BU, HSP, LCP.

1815

New York: Published by David Longworth,| At the Dramatic Repository,| Shakespeare-Gallery.| 1815.| 2 vols.; small 12mo; Vol. I, pp. viii, [13]-188; Vol. II, pp. 176.

See Vol. I, pp. xc-xci, _supra_. _Copies:_ BA, BM, BPL, BU,
C, LCP, NL, NYHS, NYSL, PU, GSMT, NkPL.

1861

London:| John Russell Smith,| Soho Square.| 1861.|

Small 8vo; pp. xxii, [1]-362. Printed at the Chiswick Press.

_Copies:_ BPL, BU, C, HSP, NL, NYHS, NYSL, PU, NkPL.

1865

New York:| W. J. Widdleton, Publisher.| M.DCCC. LXV. 12mo; pp. xxxviii, [1]-288. por. and facsim.

_Copies:_ AAS, BM, BPL, C, HSP, LCP, NA, NL, NYHS, NYSL, PU,
SPL, NkPL. One hundred copies also on large paper, royal 8vo.

1891

This is a reissue of the 1865 edition printed with red line borders
for Crowell's "Red Line Series of the Poets." Cover title misprinted
"_Frenau's_ Poems," Also issued without red line border.

1902

8^o; 3 vols. pp. CXII, 294; X, 407; XIV, 430 (Vol. II, 1903, Vol. III, 1907).

1906

Edition of 100 copies. The third publication of the Club for Colonial
Reprints, of Providence, R. I. See Vol. III, Appendix A, _supra_.

INDEX

Adams, John, i. liv; iii. 207, 210

Adams, Samuel, i. 193

Aitken, R., i. 49

Albertson, Captain, ii. 346

Algiers, pirates of, ii. 302, 344, 381

Amanda poems, ii. 318, 319, 321, 326, 328, 392

"American Crisis, The," ii. 16

_American Museum_, i. lxvii; ii. 313

Americus Vespucius, ii. 268

Amherst, Sir Jeffrey, i. 156; ii. 117

_Analectic Magazine_, i. xci

Anderson, Alexander, i. xcii

Anderson, publisher, i. 142, 158, 185

André, Major John, ii. 39

Annapolis, Md., iii. 15

Arbuthnot, Admiral Marriot, ii. 90

_Argus_, i. lxxii

Arnold, Benedict, ii. 39ff., 103, 336

Asgill, Capt. Charles, ii. 193, 291

Auchmuty, Rev. Samuel, ii. 209

Bache, Benjamin F., i. lviii

Bailey, Commander of packet, ii. 346

Bailey, Francis, i. xxxiv, xxxvi, xl, xliiiff., lxiii, lxiv, lxxx;
ii. 18, 75, 338

Bailey, Lydia H., i. lxxxviii

Bainbridge, Commodore Joseph, iii. 311

Balfour, Nesbit, ii. 155

Balloons, ii. 265, 276; iii. 142

Barlow, Joel, i. c, ci, 279

Barney, Capt. Joshua, ii. 142, 147, 149

Bastille, Fall of, iii. 72, 102

Bauman, Col., i. lxxx

Beckley, Mr., i. lxix

Bell, Capt. Archibald, i. xlv

Bell, Robert, publisher, i. xxviii, 271; ii. 260

Bellamont, Richard, Earl of, iii. 40

Bermuda, i. xxviii, 266, 283; ii. 318, 319, 393

Bernard, Sir Francis, i. 80

Biddle, Capt. Nicholas, i. cvi, 288

Blackbeard, pirate, iii. 229

Blanchard, balloonist, iii. 142

Bolingbroke, Lord, iii. 47

Bompard, Captain of _Ambuscade_, iii. 106

_Bon Homme Richard_ and _Serapis_, ii. 75

Bonaparte, Napoleon, iii. 135, 333, 334

Boston, Mass., i. 84, 152, 158, 171, 185, 193; ii. 196

Bradford, William, Papers, i. xvii

Brackenridge, H. H., i. xvi, xx, xxii, xxviii, xxix

Brown, Gen. Jacob, iii. 329

Burgoyne, General, i. 164, 165, 171; ii. 96, 140

Burke, Aedanus, i. xlix, lxxix; iii. 243

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The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 3 (of 3)Chapter XV: Appendix (1)

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