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POEMS OF PHILIP FRENEAU Volume II

THE

POEMS OF PHILIP FRENEAU

POET OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION EDITED FOR

The Princeton Historical Association

BY

FRED LEWIS PATTEE

OF THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE COLLEGE, AUTHOR OF "A HISTORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE" "THE FOUNDATIONS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE" ETC.

Volume II Princeton, N. J.

The University Library

1903

Copyright 1902 by

The Princeton University Library

C. S. Robinson & Co. University Press

Princeton N. J. [Pg v]

CONTENTS

VOLUME II PAGE

PART II Continued

The First Poetic Period. 1775-1781

George the Third's Soliloquy 3

Sir Harry's Invitation 7

Dialogue between his Britannic Majesty and Mr. Fox 9

The British Prison Ship 18

The Spy 39

PART III

Era of the Freeman's Journal. 1781-1790

On the Memorable Victory of Paul Jones 75

An Address 81

A New-York Tory 84

To Lord Cornwallis 86

A London Dialogue 87

Lord Cornwallis to Sir Henry Clinton 89

The Vanity of Existence 91

1

[Pg vi]On the Fall of General Earl Cornwallis 92

To the Memory of the Brave Americans 101

Arnold's Departure 103

Plato to Theon 104

Prologue to a Theatrical Entertainment 108

Ruins of a Country Inn 110

The Royal Adventurer 112

Lord Dunmore's Petition 114

Epigram 116

A Speech by the King of Britain 117

Rivington's Last Will and Testament 120

Lines Occasioned by Mr. Rivington's New Titular Types 124

Lines on Mr. Rivington's New Engraved King's Arms 125

A Prophecy, Written 1782 126

The Argonaut or Lost Adventurer 128

The Political Balance 130

Dialogue at Hyde Park Corner 140

On the Late Royal Sloop of War General Monk 142

Truth Anticipated 143

Barney's Invitation 147

Song on Captain Barney's Victory 149

On Sir Henry Clinton's Recall 153

Sir Guy Carleton's Address 156

Scandanavian War Song 159 [Pg vii]The Projectors 160

On General Robertson's Proclamation 162

A Picture of the Times 165

Prince William Henry's Soliloquy 167

Satan's Remonstrance 169

The Refugees' Petition to Sir Guy Carleton 172

Sir Guy's Answer 173

To a Concealed Royalist 174

To the Concealed Royalist, in Answer to a Second Attack 177

To the Concealed Royalist on his Farewell 179

To the Royalist Unveiled 181

To Shylock Ap-Shenkin 185

The Prophecy of King Tammany 187

Rivington's Reflections 190

New Year's Verses, January 1, 1783 197

New Year's Verses, January 8, 1783 198

Hugh Gaine's Life 201

Stanzas Occasioned by the Departure of the British from Charleston, December 14, 1782 214

On the British King's Speech 217

A New-York Tory's Epistle 219

Manhattan City 223

Verses Occasioned by General Washington's Arrival in Philadelphia 225 [Pg viii]Rivington's Confessions 229

A NewsMan's Address 238

New Year's Verses, January 7, 1784 240

The Happy Prospect 242

The Dying Indian, Tomo-Chequi 243

Lines Intended for Mr. Peale's Exhibition 246

The Hurricane 250

To the Keeper of the King's Water Works 252

Lines Written at Port Royal 253

To Sir Toby, a Sugar Planter 258

Elegy on Mr. Robert Bell 260

On the First American Ship that Explored the Rout to India 261

2

The Newsmonger 263

Sketches of American History 269

The Progress of Balloons 276

On the Emigration to America280

The Seasons Moralized 282

On the Death of Colonel Laurens 283

On the Vicissitudes of Things 284

Pewter-Platter Alley in Philadelphia 287

On the Death of General Joseph Reed 288

A Renegado Epistle 290

The American Siberia 293

Epistle to Sylvius 295

[Pg ix]The Departure, 1785 298

A Newsman's Address 301

Literary Importation 303

The Englishman's Complaint 305

The Wild Honey Suckle 306

On a Book Called Unitarian Theology 307

To Zoilus 309

On the Legislature of Great-Britain Prohibiting the Sale of Dr. Ramsay's History 312

The Death Song of a Cherokee Indian 313

Stanzas Written at the Foot of Monte Souffriere 314

On the Crew of a Certain Vessel 317

The Bermuda Islands 318

Florio to Amanda 319

Philander: or The Emigrant 321

The Fair Solitary 325

Amanda in a Consumption 326

Elegiac Lines 328

The Insolvent's Release 329

May to April 331

To an Author 332

To Misfortune 335

To Cracovius Putridus 336

Slender's Journey 338

The Hermit of Saba 359

[Pg x]The Indian Burying Ground 369

The Indian Student 371

The Man of Ninety 374

Alcina's Enchanted Island 376

Horace, Lib. I. Ode 15 377

A Subscription Prayer 379

Epistle to the Patriotic Farmer 380

Palemon to Lavinia 381

A Newsman's Address 383

On the Prospect of a Revolution in France 385

To a Dog 387

To Lydia 387

To Cynthia 391

Amanda's Complaint 392

Hatteras 394

St. Catharine's 397

To Mr. Churchman 398

The Procession to Sylvania 399

The Pilgrim's Progress 401

Sangrado's Expedition to Sylvania 402

The Distrest Theatre 404

To Memmius 406

3

[Pg 1]

PART II (Continued)

THE FIRST POETIC PERIOD

1775--1781 [Pg 2]

[Pg 3] THE

POEMS OF PHILIP FRENEAU

GEORGE THE THIRD'S SOLILOQUY[1]

What mean these dreams, and hideous forms that rise

Night after night, tormenting to my eyes-- No real foes these horrid shapes can be,

But thrice as much they vex and torture me. How cursed is he--how doubly cursed am I--5

Who lives in pain, and yet who dares not die; To him no joy this world of Nature brings,

In vain the wild rose blooms, the daisy springs. Is this a prelude to some new disgrace,

Some baleful omen to my name and race!--10

It may be so--ere mighty Caesar died

Presaging Nature felt his doom, and sighed;[Pg 4]

A bellowing voice through midnight groves was heard, And threatening ghosts at dusk of eve appeared--

Ere Brutus fell, to adverse fates a prey,15

His evil genius met him on the way,

And so may mine!--but who would yield so soon A prize, some luckier hour may make my own? Shame seize my crown ere such a deed be mine-- No--to the last my squadrons shall combine,20

And slay my foes, while foes remain to slay, Or heaven shall grant me one successful day. Is there a robber close in Newgate hemmed,

Is there a cut-throat, fettered and condemned? Haste, loyal slaves, to George's standard come,25

Attend his lectures when you hear the drum; Your chains I break--for better days prepare, Come out, my friends, from prison and from care, Far to the west I plan your desperate sway,

There 'tis no sin to ravage, burn, and slay,30

There, without fear, your bloody aims pursue, And shew mankind what English thieves can do. That day, when first I mounted to the throne,

I swore to let all foreign foes alone.[Pg 5] Through love of peace to terms did I advance,35

And made, they say, a shameful league with France.[2] But different scenes rise horrid to my view,

I charged my hosts to plunder and subdue-- At first, indeed, I thought short wars to wage And sent some jail-birds to be led by Gage,[3]40

4

For 'twas but right, that those we marked for slaves Should be reduced by cowards, fools, and knaves; Awhile directed by his feeble hand,

Whose troops were kicked and pelted through the land, Or starved in Boston, cursed the unlucky hour45

They left their dungeons for that fatal shore. France aids them now, a desperate game I play, And hostile Spain will do the same, they say; My armies vanquished, and my heroes fled,

My people murmuring, and my commerce dead,50

My shattered navy pelted, bruised, and clubbed,

By Dutchmen bullied, and by Frenchmen drubbed, My name abhorred, my nation in disgrace,

How should I act in such a mournful case!

My hopes and joys are vanished with my coin,55

My ruined army, and my lost Burgoyne! What shall I do--confess my labours vain,

Or whet my tusks, and to the charge again![Pg 6] But where's my force--my choicest troops are fled, Some thousands crippled, and a myriad dead--60

If I were owned the boldest of mankind,

And hell with all her flames inspired my mind, Could I at once with Spain and France contend, And fight the rebels on the world's green end?-- The pangs of parting I can ne'er endure,65

Yet part we must, and part to meet no more!

Oh, blast this Congress, blast each upstart State, On whose commands ten thousand captains wait; From various climes that dire Assembly came, True to their trust, as hostile to my fame,70

'Tis these, ah these, have ruined half my sway, Disgraced my arms, and led my slaves astray-- Cursed be the day when first I saw the sun, Cursed be the hour when I these wars begun:

The fiends of darkness then possessed my mind,75

And powers unfriendly to the human kind. To wasting grief, and sullen rage a prey,

To Scotland's utmost verge I'll take my way, There with eternal storms due concert keep

And while the billows rage, as fiercely weep--80

Ye highland lads, my rugged fate bemoan, Assist me with one sympathizing groan,[4] For late I find the nations are my foes,

I must submit, and that with bloody nose,

Or, like our James, fly basely from the state,85

Or share, what still is worse--old Charles's fate.

[1] From the edition of 1809. The poem was first published in the May number of the United States Magazine, 1779, and much revised and enlarged for the edition of 1786, where it bore the title, "George III. His Soliloquy for 1779." This earliest version, which began with the startling line,

"O Damn this Congress, damn each upstart state,"

was made up as follows, the numbering referring to the above version:

Lines 68-72, 47-64, followed by

"Yet rogues and savage tribes I must employ, And what I cannot conquer will destroy." Lines 23-32, followed by

5

"Ye daring hosts that croud Columbia's shore, Tremble ye traitors, and exult no more;

Flames I shall hurl with an unceasing hand, Till fires eternal blaze throughout your land, And every dome and every town expires, And traitors perish in the unfeeling fires;

But hold--though this be all my soul's desire,

Will my own towns be proof to rebel fire.

If in revenge my raging foes should come,

And burn my London--it would strike me dumb, To see my children and my queen in tears,

And these tall piles come tumbling round my ears, Would to its inmost caverns fright my mind,

And stun ourself, the boldest of mankind." Lines 73-76, followed by

"My future years I consecrate to woe,

For this great loss my soul in tears shall flow."

Ending with lines 77-82.

[2] Alluding to the peace of 1761 and the forced retirement of Pitt. [3] "And sent a scoundrel by the name of Gage."--Ed. 1786.

[4]

"O let the earth my rugged fate bemoan, And give at least one sympathizing groan."

--United States Magazine, 1779. [Pg 7]

SIR HARRY'S INVITATION[5]

Come, gentlemen Tories, firm, loyal, and true, Here are axes and shovels, and something to do! For the sake of our king,

Come, labour and sing;

You left all you had for his honour and glory, And he will remember the suffering Tory:

We have, it is true,

Some small work to do; But here's for your pay Twelve coppers a day,

And never regard what the rebels may say, But throw off your jerkins and labour away. To raise up the rampart, and pile up the wall, To pull down old houses and dig the canal, To build and destroy--

Be this your employ,

In the day time to work at our fortifications,

And steal in the night from the rebels your rations: The king wants your aid,

Not empty parade; Advance to your places Ye men of long faces,

Nor ponder too much on your former disgraces,

This year, I presume, will quite alter your cases.[Pg 8]

6

Attend at the call of the fifer and drummer,

The French and the Rebels are coming next summer, And forts we must build

Though Tories are kill'd--

Then courage, my jockies, and work for your king, For if you are taken no doubt you will swing--

If York we can hold I'll have you enroll'd; And after you're dead

Your names shall be read

As who for their monarch both labour'd and bled,

And ventur'd their necks for their beef and their bread.

'Tis an honour to serve the bravest of nations, And be left to be hang'd in their capitulations-- Then scour up your mortars

And stand to your quarters,

'Tis nonsense for Tories in battle to run, They never need fear sword, halberd, or gun; Their hearts should not fail 'em,

No balls will assail 'em, Forget your disgraces And shorten your faces,

For 'tis true as the gospel, believe it or not, Who are born to be hang'd, will never be shot.

[5] According to Frank Moore's Songs and Ballads of the Revolution, this poem was first issued as a ballad-sheet in 1779. It was

reprinted in the Freeman's Journal, April 17, 1782, and was published in the author's three editions. The text follows the edition of

1795.

Sir Henry Clinton was left in command of New York City, July 5, 1777, when Howe started on his expedition for the capture of

Philadelphia. Freneau's poem indicates his treatment of the Tory refugees. [Pg 9]

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY AND MR. FOX[6]

Supposed to have passed about the time of the approach of the combined fleets of France and Spain to the British coasts, August,

1779.

King G.

Good master Fox,[7] your counsel I implore,

Still George the third, but potent George no more. By North conducted to the brink of fate,

I mourn my folly and my pride too late: The promises he made, when once we met In Kew's gay shades,[A] I never shall forget,

That at my feet the western world should fall, And bow to me the potent lord of all--

Curse on his hopes, his councils and his schemes,

His plans of conquest, and his golden dreams,[Pg 10] These have allur'd me to the jaws of hell,

By Satan tempted thus Iscariot fell: Divested of majestic pomp I come,

My royal robes and airs I've left at home,

Speak freely, friend, whate'er you choose to say, Suppose me equal with yourself to-day:

How shall I shun the mischiefs that impend? How shall I make Columbia[B] yet my friend?

7

I dread the power of each revolted State,

The convex East hangs balanc'd with their weight. How shall I dare the rage of France and Spain, And lost dominion o'er the waves regain?

Advise me quick, for doubtful while we stand, Destruction gathers o'er this wretched land: These hostile squadrons to my ruin led,

These Gallic thunders fill my soul with dread,

If these should conquer--Britain, thou must fall

And bend, a province, to the haughty Gaul:

If this must be--thou earth, expanding wide, Unlucky George in thy dark entrails hide-- Ye oceans, wrap me in your dark embrace--

Ye mountains, shroud me to your lowest base-- Fall on my head, ye everlasting rocks--

But why so pensive, my good master Fox?[8] [A] The royal gardens at Kew.--Freneau's note.

[B] America, so called, by poetical liberty, from its discoverer.--Freneau's note.

Fox

While in the arms of power and peace you lay, Ambition led your restless soul astray.

Possest of lands extending far and wide,

And more than Rome could boast in all her pride,[Pg 11] Yet, not contented with that mighty store,

Like a true miser, still you sought for more; And, all in raptures for a tyrant's reign,

You strove your subjects dearest rights to chain:

Those ruffian hosts beyond the ocean sent,

By your commands on blood and murder bent, With cruel hand the form of man defac'd,

And laid the toils of art and nature waste. (For crimes like these imperial Britain bends, For crimes like these her ancient glory ends) These lands, once truest to your name and race, Whom the wide ocean's utmost waves embrace, Your just protection basely you deny'd,

Their towns you plunder'd, and you burnt beside. Virginia's slaves, without one blush of shame,

Against their lords[9] you arm'd with sword and flame;

At every port your ships of war you laid, And strove to ruin and distress their trade,

Yet here, ev'n here, your mighty projects fail'd; For then from creeks their hardy seamen sail'd, In slender barques they cross'd a stormy main,

And traffick'd for the wealth of France and Spain;

O'er either tropic and the line they pass'd, And, deeply laden, safe return'd at last:

Nor think they yet had bow'd to Britain's sway, Though distant nations had not join'd the fray, Alone they fought your armies and your fleet, And made your Clintons and your Howes retreat, And yet while France stood doubting if to join,

Your ships they captur'd, and they took Burgoyne! How vain is Briton's strength, her armies now Before Columbia's bolder veterans bow;[Pg 12] Her gallant veterans all our force despise,

8

Though late from ruin[C] we beheld them rise; Before their arms our strongest bulwarks fall,

They storm the rampart and they scale the wall;[D] With equal dread, on either service sent,

They seize a fortress, or they strike a tent. But should we bow beneath a foreign yoke,

And potent France atchieve the humbling stroke, Yet every power, and even ourselves, must say, "Just is the vengeance of the skies to-day:"

For crimes like ours dire vengeance[10] must atone; Forbear your fasts, and let the skies[11] alone--

By cruel kings, in fierce Britannia bred,

Such seas of blood have first and last been shed,

That now, distrest for each inhuman deed,

Our turn has come--our turn has come to bleed: Forbear your groans; for war and death array, March to the foe, and give the fates their way.

Can you[12] behold, without one hearty groan,

The fleets of France superior to your own?

Can you behold, without one poignant pang,

The foreign conquests of the brave D'Estaing?[E] North is your friend, and now destruction knocks, Still take his counsel, and regard not Fox.

[C] The Year 1776.--Freneau's note.

[D] Stoney Point, Powles Hook, &c.--Ib. [E] Grenada, &c.--Ib.

King G.

Ah! speak not thus--your words will break my heart, Some softer counsel to my ears impart,

How can I march to meet the insulting foe, Who never yet to hostile plains did go?[Pg 13] When was I vers'd in battles or in blood? When have I fought upon the faithless flood? Much better could I at my palace door

Recline and hear the distant cannons roar. Generals and admirals Britain yet can boast, Some fight on land, and some defend the coast;

The fame of these throughout the globe resounds, To these I leave the glory and the wounds;

But since this honour for no blood atones, I must and will be careful of my bones. What pleasure to your monarch would it be, If Lords and Commons could at last agree;

Could North with Fox in firm alliance stand,

And Burke with Sandwich shake the social hand, Then should we bring the rebels to our feet,

And France and Spain ingloriously retreat, Her ancient glories to this isle return,

And we no more for lost Columbia mourn. Fox

Alliance!--what![F]--Your Highness must be mad: Say, what alliance can with these be had?

Can lambs and wolves in social bands ally?

When these prove friendly, then will North and I. Alliance! no--I curse the horrid thought;

9

Ally with those their country's ruin sought! Who to perdition sold their native land,

Leagu'd with the foe, a close connected band-- Ally with these!--I speak it to your face-- Alliance here is ruin and disgrace.

Angels and devils in such bonds unite,

So hell is ally'd to the realms of light--[Pg 14]

Let North or Germaine[13] still my prayers deride, Let turn-coat Johnston[G] take the courtly side, Even Pitt, if living, might with these agree;

But no alliance shall they have with me.

But since no shame forbids your tongue to own

A royal coward fills Britannia's throne;

Since our best chiefs must fight your mad campaigns,

And be disgrac'd at last by him who reigns,[H] No wonder, heaven! such ill success attends!

No wonder North and Mansfield are your friends!

Take my advice, with these to battle go,

These book-learned heroes may confront the foe-- Those first who led us tow'rds the brink of fate, Should still be foremost when at Pluto's gate;

Let them, grown desperate by our run of woes, Collect new fury from this host of foes,

And, ally'd with themselves, to ruin steer, The just conclusion of their mad career.

[F] Alliance!--what, &c. See his speech in the House of Commons, June 22, 1779, in answer to Lord Nugent.--Freneau's note.

[G] Let turn-coat Johnston, &c. The worthy British commissioner, of bribing memory, who, for the sake of a few guineas, belied his own conscience, and sided with the majority.--Freneau's note.

[H] And be disgrac'd at last by him who reigns. As Gage, the Howes, Burgoyne, &c., for not doing impossibilities.--Ib.

King G.

No comfort in these cruel words I find--

Ungrateful words to my tormented mind!

With me alone both France and Spain contend, And not one nation will be call'd my friend: Unpitying now the Dutchman sees me fall,

The Russian leaves me to the haughty[14] Gaul, The German, grown as brutish[15] as the Dane, Consigns my carcase to the jaws of Spain.[Pg 15] Where are the hosts they promis'd me of yore, When rich and great they heard my thunders roar, While yet confess'd the master of the sea,

The Germans drain'd their wide domain for me, And aiding Britain with a friendly hand,

Helpt to subdue the rebels and their land?[I] Ah! rebels, rebels! insolent and mad;

My Scottish rebels were not half so bad,[J] They soon submitted to superior sway;[K] But these grow stronger as my hosts decay:

What hosts have perish'd on their hostile shore! They went for conquest, but return'd no more. Columbia, thou a friend in better times!

Lost are to me thy pleasurable climes. You wish me buried in eternal night,

You curse the day when first I saw the light--

Thy[16] commerce vanish'd, hostile nations share,

10

And thus you leave me[17] naked, poor, and bare; Despised by those who should my[18] cause defend, And helpless left without one pitying friend.

These dire afflictions shake my changeful throne,

And turn my brain--a very idiot grown:

Of all the isles, the realms with which I part, Columbia sits the heaviest at my heart,

She, she provokes the deepest, heaviest sigh, And makes me doubly wretched ere I die. Some dreary convent's unfrequented gloom

(Like Charles of Spain)[L] had better be my doom:[Pg 16] There while in absence from my crown I sigh,

The[19] Prince of Wales these ills may rectify; A happier fortune may his crown await,

He yet perhaps may save this sinking state.

I'll to my prayers, my bishops and my beads,[M] And beg God's pardon for my heinous deeds;

Those streams of blood, that, spilt by my command, Call out for vengeance on this guilty land.

[I] The Hessians, Waldeckers, Anspachers, &c.--Freneau's note. [J] The Year 1745.--Ib.

[K] Culloden.--Ib.

[L] Like Charles of Spain, &c. Charles V. who, in 1556, resigning the crown to his son Philip II., shut himself up in the monastery of

St. Just, in Spain, where he died two years after.--Ib.

[M] I'll to my prayers, my bishops, and my beads. This is not said without foundation, as he established the Roman Catholic religion in Canada, in 1775.--Freneau's note.

Fox

You ask for mercy--can you cry to God,[20] Who had no mercy on poor parson Dodd?[N] No inward image of the power divine,

No gentle feelings warm that soul of thine; Convents you have--no need to look for new, Your convents are the brothel and the stew. One horrid act[O] disgrac'd old Jesse's son, And that one blemish have you hit upon;

You seiz'd an English Quaker's tempting wife,[P] And push'd him off to lose his sneaking life;[Pg 17] Even to that coast where freedom sent to quell,

All in their pride the flower of Britain fell.

But ruin'd was your scheme, the plan was vain, For when were Quakers in a battle slain?

As well might Whales by closing waves expire,

Or Salamanders perish in the fire.

When France and Spain are thund'ring at your doors, Is this a time for kings to lodge with whores?

In one short sentence take my whole advice,

(It is no time to flatter and be nice)

With all your soul for instant peace contend, Thus shall you be your country's truest friend--

Peace, heavenly[21] peace, may stay your tottering throne,

But wars and death and blood can profit none. To Russia[22] send, in humblest guise array'd, And beg her intercession, not her aid:

11

Withdraw your armies from th' Americ' shore, And vex Columbia[23] with your fleets no more; Vain are their conquests, past experience shews, For what this hour they gain, the next they lose. Implore the friendship of these injur'd States; No longer strive against the stubborn fates.

Since heav'n has doom'd Columbia to be free, What is her commerce and her wealth to thee? Since heav'n that land of promise has denied, Regain by prudence[24] what you lost by pride: Immediate ruin each delay attends,

Imperial Britain scarce her coast defends; Hibernia sees the threat'ning foes advance, And feels an ague at the thoughts of France; Jamaica mourns her half-protected state, Barbadoes soon may share Grenada's fate, And every isle that owns your reign to-day, May bow to-morrow to great Louis'[25] sway.

Yes--while I speak, your empire, great before, Contracts its limits, and is great no more. Unhappy prince! what madness has possest,

What worse than madness seiz'd thy vengeful breast, When white-rob'd peace before thy portal stood,

To drive her hence, and stain the world with blood? For this destruction threatens from the skies;

See hostile navies to our ruin rise;

Our fleets inglorious shun the force of Spain,

And France triumphant stems the subject main.

[N] Dr. William Dodd, whose history is well known.--Ib. [O] In the case of Uriah.--Ib.

[P] "The connection between vice and meanness is a fit object for satire; but when the satire is a fact, it cuts with the irresistible power of a diamond. If a Quaker, in defence of his just rights, his property, and the chastity of his house, takes up a musket, he is expelled the meeting; but the present king of England, who seduced and took into keeping a sister of their society, is reverenced and supported with repeated testimonies, while the friendly noodle from whom she was taken, (and who is now in this city) continues

a drudge in the service of his rival, as if proud of being cuckolded by a creature called a king."--American Crisis, No. 3, Printed at

Philadelphia, 1777.--Ib.

[6] First published in the United States Magazine, December, 1779. The test follows the edition of 1786.

"Early in June, the French fleet of thirty-one ships of the line, yielding to Spanish importunities, put to sea from Brest; and yet they were obliged to wait off the coast of Spain for the Spaniards. After a loss of two months in the best season of the year, a junction was effected with more than twenty ships of war under the command of ... Count Gaston; and the combined fleet, the largest force that had ever been afloat, sailed for the British Channel.... The united fleet rode unmolested by the British.... On the 16th of August they appeared off Plymouth, but did not attack the town. After two idle days a strong wind drove them to the west; when the gale

had abated, the allies rallied, returned up the channel, and the British retreated before them. No harmony existed between the French and Spanish officers. A deadly malady ravaged the French ships and infected the Spanish. The combined fleet never had one chief. The French returned to port and remained there; the Spaniards sailed for Cadiz, execrating their allies."--Bancroft.

[7] "Charly Fox."--Ed. 1795.

[8] Fox's opposition to the American war is too well known to need comment. [9] "Their cause."--Ed. 1795.

[10] "Sufferings."--Ed. 1809.

12

[11] "Gods."--Ed. 1795. [12] "We."--Ib.

[13] "Sackville."--Ed. 1795. [14] "Thundering."--Ib.

[15] "Careless."--Ib. [16] "Our."--Ed. 1795. [17] "Us."--Ib.

[18] "Our."--Ib.

[19] "George."--Ed. 1795.

[20] This and the following seventeen lines omitted from the edition of 1795. [21] "Instant."--Ed. 1795.

[22] "Catharine."--Ib. [23] "Her oceans."--Ib.

[24] "Cunning."--Ed. 1809.

[25] "The Frenchman's."--Ed. 1795. [Pg 18]

THE BRITISH PRISON SHIP[26] Written 1780

Canto I.--The Capture

Amid these ills no tyrant dared refuse

My right to pen the dictates of the muse, To paint the terrors of the infernal place, And fiends from Europe, insolent as base. Assist me, Clio! while in verse I tell

The dire misfortunes that a ship befell,

Which outward bound, to St. Eustatia's shore, Death and disaster through the billows bore. From Philadelphia's crowded port she came;

For there the builder plann'd her lofty frame,[Pg 19] With wond'rous skill, and excellence of art

He form'd, dispos'd, and order'd every part, With joy beheld the stately fabric rise

To a stout bulwark of stupendous size,

'Till launch'd at last, capacious of the freight, He left her to the Pilots, and her fate.

First from her depths the tapering masts ascend, On whose firm bulk the transverse yards depend, By shrouds and stays secur'd from side to side Trees grew on trees, suspended o'er the tide,

13

Firm to the yards extended, broad and vast They hung the sails susceptive of the blast, Far o'er the prow the lengthy bowsprit lay,

Supporting on the extreme the taught Gib-stay, Twice ten six pounders at their port holes plac'd And rang'd in rows, stood hostile in the waist: Thus all prepar'd, impatient for the seas,

She left her station with an adverse breeze, This her first outset from her native shore, To seas a stranger, and untry'd before.

From the bright radiance that his glories spread Ere from the east gay Phoebus lifts his head, From the sweet morn, a kindred name she won, Aurora call'd, the offspring of the sun,

Whose form projecting, the broad prow displays, Far glittering o'er the wave, a mimic blaze.

The gay ship now, in all her pomp and pride,

With sails expanded, flew along the tide;[Pg 20]

'Twas thy deep stream, O Delaware, that bore

This pile intended for a southern shore,

Bound to those isles where endless summer reigns, Fair fruits, gay blossoms, and enamell'd plains; Where sloping lawns the roving swain invite,

And the cool morn succeeds the breezy night, Where each glad day a heaven unclouded brings And sky-topt mountains teem with golden springs. From Cape Henlopen, urg'd by favouring gales, When morn emerg'd, we seaward spread our sails, Then east-south-east explor'd the briny way,

Close to the wind, departing from the bay;

No longer seen the hoarse resounding strand, With hearts elate we hurried from the land, Escap'd the dangers of that shelvy ground,

To sailors fatal, and for wrecks renown'd.-- The gale increases as we stem the main,

Now scarce the hills their sky-blue mist retain, At last they sink beneath the rolling wave

That seems their summits, as they sink, to lave; Abaft the beam the freshening breezes play,

No mists advancing to deform the day,

No tempests rising o'er the splendid scene,

A sea unruffled, and a heaven serene.

Now Sol's bright lamp, the heav'n born source of light, Had pass'd the line of his meridian height,

And westward hung--retreating from the view Shores disappear'd, and every hill withdrew, When, still suspicious of some neighbouring foe, Aloft the Master bade a Seaman go,

To mark if, from the mast's aspiring height Through all the round a vessel came in sight. Too soon the Seaman's glance, extending wide, Far distant in the east a ship espy'd,[Pg 21]

Her lofty masts stood bending to the gale,

Close to the wind was brac'd each shivering sail; Next from the deck we saw the approaching foe, Her spangled bottom seem'd in flames to glow When to the winds she bow'd in dreadful haste And her lee-guns lay delug'd in the waste:

14

From her topgallant flow'd an English Jack; With all her might she strove to gain our track, Nor strove in vain--with pride and power elate, Wing'd on by hell, she drove us to our fate;

No stop no stay her bloody crew intends,

(So flies a comet with its host of fiends)

Nor oaths, nor prayers arrest her swift career, Death in her front, and ruin in her rear.

Struck at the sight, the Master gave command

To change our course, and steer toward the land-- Swift to the task the ready sailors run,

And while the word was utter'd, half was done:

As from the south the fiercer breezes rise Swift from her foe alarm'd Aurora flies, With every sail extended to the wind

She fled the unequal foe that chac'd behind;

Along her decks dispos'd in close array

Each at its port, the grim artillery lay,

Soon on the foe with brazen throat to roar;

But, small their size, and narrow was their bore; Yet faithful they their destin'd station keep

To guard the barque that wafts them o'er the deep, Who now must bend to steer a homeward course And trust her swiftness rather than her force,

Unfit to combat with a powerful foe;

Her decks too open, and her waist too low.

While o'er the wave with foaming prow she flies, Once more emerging, distant landscapes rise;[Pg 22] High in the air the starry streamer plays,

And every sail its various tribute pays:

To gain the land we bore the weighty blast; And now the wish'd for cape appear'd at last; But the vext foe, impatient of delay,

Prepar'd for ruin, press'd upon her prey;

Near, and more near, in aweful grandeur came

The frigate Iris, not unknown to fame;

Iris her name, but Hancock once she bore, Fram'd and completed on New Albion's shore, By Manly lost, the swiftest of the train

That fly with wings of canvas o'er the main. Now, while for combat some with zeal prepare, Thus to the heavens the Boatswain sent his prayer: "List, all ye powers that rule the skies and seas! "Shower down perdition on such thieves as these, "Fate, strike their hearts with terror and dismay, "And sprinkle on their powder salt-sea spray!

"May bursting cannon, while his aim he tries, "Destroy the Gunner, and be-damn his eyes-- "The chief who awes the quarter-deck, may he, "Tripp'd from his stand, be tumbled in the sea. "May they who rule the round-top's giddy height "Be canted headlong to perpetual night;

"May fiends torment them on a leeward coast, "And help forsake them when they want it most-- "From their wheel'd engines torn be every gun-- "And now, to sum up every curse in one,

"May latent flames, to save us, intervene,

"And hell-ward drive them from their magazine!"--

15

The Frigate now had every sail unfurl'd,

And rush'd tremendous o'er the wat'ry world;

Thus fierce Pelides, eager to destroy,

Chac'd the proud Trojan to the gates of Troy--[Pg 23] Swift o'er the waves while hostile they pursue

As swiftly from their fangs Aurora flew,

At length Henlopen's cape we gain'd once more, And vainly strove to force the ship ashore;

Stern fate forbade the barren shore to gain, Denial sad, and source of future pain!

For then the inspiring breezes ceas'd to blow, Lost were they all, and smooth the seas below; By the broad cape becalm'd, our lifeless sails No longer swell'd their bosoms to the gales; The ship, unable to pursue her way,

Tumbling about, at her own guidance lay,

No more the helm its wonted influence lends, No oars assist us, and no breeze befriends; Meantime the foe, advancing from the sea, Rang'd her black cannon, pointed on our lee, Then up she luff 'd, and blaz'd her entrails dire, Bearing destruction, terror, death and fire.

Vext at our fate, we prim'd a piece, and then Return'd the shot, to shew them we were men. Dull night at length her dusky pinions spread, And every hope to 'scape the foe was fled;

Close to thy cape, Henlopen, though we press'd, We could not gain thy desert, dreary breast; Though ruin'd trees beshroud thy barren shore With mounds of sand half hid, or cover'd o'er, Though ruffian winds disturb thy summit bare, Yet every hope and every wish was there;

In vain we sought to reach the joyless strand, Fate stood between, and barr'd us from the land. All dead becalm'd, and helpless as we lay,

The ebbing current forc'd us back to sea, While vengeful Iris, thirsting for our blood,

Flash'd her red lightnings o'er the trembling flood,[Pg 24] At every flash a storm of ruin came

'Till our shock'd vessel shook through all her frame-- Mad for revenge, our breasts with fury glow

To wreak returns of vengeance on the foe; Full at his hull our pointed guns we rais'd, His hull resounded as the cannon blaz'd;

Through his main topsail one a passage tore, His sides re-echo'd to the dreadful roar, Alternate fires dispell'd the shades of night-- But how unequal was this daring fight!

Our stoutest guns threw but a six-pound ball, Twelve pounders from the foe our sides did maul, And, while no power to save him intervenes,

A bullet struck our captain of Marines; Fierce, though he bid defiance to the foe He felt his death and ruin in the blow,

Headlong he fell, distracted with the wound,

The deck distain'd, and heart blood streaming round. Another blast, as fatal in its aim,

Wing'd by destruction, through our rigging came,

16

And, whistling tunes from hell upon its way, Shrouds, stays, and braces tore at once away,

Sails, blocks, and oars in scatter'd fragments fly-- Their softest language was--submit, or die! Repeated cries throughout the ship resound;

Now every bullet brought a different wound;

'Twixt wind and water, one assail'd the side, Through this aperture rush'd the briny tide--

'Twas then the Master trembled for his crew, And bade thy shores, O Delaware, adieu!-- And must we yield to yon' destructive ball, And must our colours to these ruffians fall!--

They fall!--his thunders forc'd our pride to bend, The lofty topsails with their yards descend,[Pg 25] And the proud foe, such leagues of ocean pass'd, His wish completed in our woe at last.

Convey'd to York, we found, at length, too late, That Death was better than the prisoner's fate; There doom'd to famine, shackles and despair, Condemn'd to breathe a foul, infected air

In sickly hulks, devoted while we lay,

Successive funerals gloom'd each dismal day-- But what on captives British rage can do, Another Canto, friend, shall let you know. Canto II.--The Prison Ship

The various horrors of these hulks to tell,

These Prison Ships where pain and horror dwell, Where death in tenfold vengeance holds his reign, And injur'd ghosts, yet unaveng'd, complain;

This be my task--ungenerous Britons, you Conspire to murder those you can't subdue.-- Weak as I am, I'll try my strength to-day

And my best arrows at these hell-hounds play, To future years one scene of death prolong, And hang them up to infamy, in song.

That Britain's rage should dye our plains with gore, And desolation spread through every shore,

None e'er could doubt, that her ambition knew, This was to rage and disappointment due;

But that those monsters whom our soil maintain'd,

Who first drew breath in this devoted land,

Like famish'd wolves, should on their country prey, Assist its foes, and wrest our lives away,

This shocks belief--and bids our soil disown Such friends, subservient to a bankrupt crown, By them the widow mourns her partner dead,

Her mangled sons to darksome prisons led,[Pg 26] By them--and hence my keenest sorrows rise,

My friend, my guardian, my Orestes dies; Still for that loss must wretched I complain, And sad Ophelia mourn her favourite swain. Ah! come the day when from this bloody shore Fate shall remove them to return no more--

To scorch'd Bahama shall the traitors go

With grief and rage, and unremitting woe,

On burning sands to walk their painful round, And sigh through all the solitary ground,

17

Where no gay flower their haggard eyes shall see, And find no shade but from the cypress tree.

So much we suffer'd from the tribe I hate, So near they shov'd me to the brink of fate,

When two long months in these dark hulks we lay,[27] Barr'd down by night, and fainting all the day

In the fierce fervours of the solar beam,

Cool'd by no breeze on Hudson's mountain-stream; That not unsung these threescore days shall fall

To black oblivion that would cover all!--

No masts or sails these crowded ships adorn, Dismal to view, neglected and forlorn!

Here, mighty ills oppress the imprison'd throng, Dull were our slumbers, and our nights too long-- From morn to eve along the decks we lay

Scorch'd into fevers by the solar ray;

No friendly awning cast a welcome shade, Once was it promis'd, and was never made; No favours could these sons of death bestow,

'Twas endless cursing, and continual woe: Immortal hatred doth their breasts engage,

And this lost empire swells their souls with rage.[Pg 27] Two hulks on Hudson's stormy bosom lie,

Two, farther south, affront the pitying eye-- There, the black Scorpion at her mooring rides, There, Strombolo swings, yielding to the tides; Here, bulky Jersey fills a larger space,

And Hunter, to all hospitals disgrace--

Thou, Scorpion, fatal to thy crowded throng, Dire theme of horror and Plutonian song, Requir'st my lay--thy sultry decks I know, And all the torments that exist below!

The briny wave that Hudson's bosom fills Drain'd through her bottom in a thousand rills, Rotten and old, replete with sighs and groans, Scarce on the waters she sustain'd her bones; Here, doom'd to toil, or founder in the tide,

At the moist pumps incessantly we ply'd,[28]

Here, doom'd to starve, like famish'd dogs we tore The scant allowance, that our tyrants bore. Remembrance shudders at this scene of fears-- Still in my view some English brute appears,

Some base-born Hessian slave walks threat'ning by, Some servile Scot with murder in his eye[Pg 28]

Still haunts my sight, as vainly they bemoan

Rebellions manag'd so unlike their own! O may I never feel the poignant pain

To live subjected to such fiends again, Stewards and Mates that hostile Britain bore, Cut from the gallows on their native shore;[29]

Their ghastly looks and vengeance-beaming eyes

Still to my view in dismal colours rise-- O may I ne'er review these dire abodes,

These piles for slaughter, floating on the floods,--

And you, that o'er the troubled ocean go,

Strike not your standards to this miscreant foe, Better the greedy wave should swallow all, Better to meet the death-conducted ball,

18

Better to sleep on ocean's deepest bed,

At once destroy'd and number'd with the dead, Than thus to perish in the face of day

Where twice ten thousand deaths one death delay. When to the ocean dives the western sun,

And the scorch'd Tories fire their evening gun, "Down, rebels, down!" the angry Scotchmen cry, "Damn'd dogs, descend, or by our broad swords die!" Hail, dark abode! what can with thee compare--

Heat, sickness, famine, death, and stagnant air-- Pandora's box, from whence all mischief flew, Here real found, torments mankind anew!-- Swift from the guarded decks we rush'd along,

And vainly sought repose, so vast our throng:[Pg 29] Three hundred wretches here, denied all light,

In crowded mansions pass the infernal night, Some for a bed their tatter'd vestments join,

And some on chests, and some on floors recline;[30]

Shut from the blessings of the evening air, Pensive we lay with mingled corpses there, Meagre and wan, and scorch'd with heat below,

We loom'd like ghosts, ere death had made us so-- How could we else, where heat and hunger join'd Thus to debase the body and the mind,

Where cruel thirst the parching throat invades, Dries up the man, and fits him for the shades. No waters laded from the bubbling spring

To these dire ships the British monsters bring-- By planks and ponderous beams completely wall'd In vain for water, and in vain, I call'd--

No drop was granted to the midnight prayer, To Dives in these regions of despair!--

The loathsome cask a deadly dose contains, Its poison circling through the languid veins; "Here, generous Britain, generous, as you say, "To my parch'd tongue one cooling drop convey, "Hell has no mischief like a thirsty throat,

"Nor one tormentor like your David Sproat."[A] Dull flew the hours, till, from the East display'd, Sweet morn dispells the horrors of the shade; On every side dire objects meet the sight,

And pallid forms, and murders of the night,[Pg 30] The dead were past their pain, the living groan,

Nor dare to hope another morn their own; But what to them is morn's delightful ray, Sad and distressful as the close of day,

O'er distant streams appears the dewy green, And leafy trees on mountain tops are seen,

But they no groves nor grassy mountains tread, Mark'd for a longer journey to the dead.

Black as the clouds that shade St. Kilda's shore, Wild as the winds that round her mountains roar, At every post some surly vagrant stands,

Pick'd from the British or the Irish bands,

Some slave from Hesse, some hangman's son at least

Sold and transported, like his brother beast-- Some miscreant Tory, puff 'd with upstart pride, Led on by hell to take the royal side;

19

Dispensing death triumphantly they stand, Their musquets ready to obey command; Wounds are their sport, as ruin is their aim; On their dark souls compassion has no claim, And discord only can their spirits please:

Such were our tyrants here, and such were these. Ingratitude! no curse like thee is found Throughout this jarring world's extended round, Their hearts with malice to our country swell Because in former days we us'd them well!-- This pierces deep, too deeply wounds the breast; We help'd them naked, friendless, and distrest, Receiv'd their vagrants with an open hand, Bestow'd them buildings, privilege, and land-- Behold the change!--when angry Britain rose, These thankless tribes became our fiercest foes, By them devoted, plunder'd, and accurst,

Stung by the serpents whom ourselves had nurs'd.[Pg 31] But such a train of endless woes abound,

So many mischiefs in these hulks are found, That on them all a poem to prolong

Would swell too high the horrors of my song-- Hunger and thirst to work our woe combine, And mouldy bread, and flesh of rotten swine, The mangled carcase, and the batter'd brain,

The doctor's poison, and the captain's cane, The soldier's musquet, and the steward's debt, The evening shackle, and the noon-day threat. That juice destructive to the pangs of care Which Rome of old, nor Athens could prepare, Which gains the day for many a modern chief When cool reflection yields a faint relief,

That charm, whose virtue warms the world beside, Was by these tyrants to our use denied,

While yet they deign'd that healthy juice to lade

The putrid water felt its powerful aid;

But when refus'd--to aggravate our pains-- Then fevers rag'd and revel'd through our veins; Throughout my frame I felt its deadly heat,

I felt my pulse with quicker motions beat: A pallid hue o'er every face was spread, Unusual pains attack'd the fainting head, No physic here, no doctor to assist,

My name was enter'd on the sick man's list;

Twelve wretches more the same dark symptoms took, And these were enter'd on the doctor's book;

The loathsome Hunter was our destin'd place, The Hunter, to all hospitals disgrace;

With soldiers sent to guard us on our road, Joyful we left the Scorpion's dire abode; Some tears we shed for the remaining crew,

Then curs'd the hulk, and from her sides withdrew.

[A] Commissary of Prisoners at New-York.--Freneau's note. [Pg 32]

Canto III.--The Hospital Prison Ship

20

Now tow'rd the Hunter's gloomy sides we came, A slaughter-house, yet hospital in name;[31]

For none came there (to pass through all degrees)

'Till half consum'd, and dying with disease;-- But when too near with labouring oars we ply'd, The Mate with curses drove us from the side; That wretch who, banish'd from the navy crew, Grown old in blood, did here his trade renew;

His serpent's tongue, when on his charge let loose, Utter'd reproaches, scandal, and abuse,

Gave all to hell who dar'd his king disown,

And swore mankind were made for George alone: Ten thousand times, to irritate our woe,

He wish'd us founder'd in the gulph below;

Ten thousand times he brandish'd high his stick, And swore as often that we were not sick--

And yet so pale!--that we were thought by some

A freight of ghosts from Death's dominions come-- But calm'd at length--for who can always rage,

Or the fierce war of endless passion wage,

He pointed to the stairs that led below

To damps, disease, and varied shapes of woe--[Pg 33] Down to the gloom I took my pensive way,

Along the decks the dying captives lay;

Some struck with madness, some with scurvy pain'd, But still of putrid fevers most complain'd!

On the hard floors these wasted objects laid, There toss'd and tumbled in the dismal shade, There no soft voice their bitter fate bemoan'd,

And Death strode stately, while the victims groan'd; Of leaky decks I heard them long complain, Drown'd as they were in deluges of rain,

Deny'd the comforts of a dying bed, And not a pillow to support the head--

How could they else but pine, and grieve, and sigh, Detest a wretched life--and wish to die?

Scarce had I mingled with this dismal band When a thin spectre seiz'd me by the hand-- "And art thou come, (death heavy on his eyes) "And art thou come to these abodes," he cries; "Why didst thou leave the Scorpion's dark retreat, "And hither haste a surer death to meet?

"Why didst thou leave thy damp infected cell? "If that was purgatory, this is hell--

"We, too, grown weary of that horrid shade, "Petitioned early for the doctor's aid;

"His aid denied, more deadly symptoms came, "Weak, and yet weaker, glow'd the vital flame; "And when disease had worn us down so low "That few could tell if we were ghosts or no, "And all asserted, death would be our fate-- "Then to the doctor we were sent--too late. "Here wastes away Autolycus the brave,

"Here young Orestes finds a wat'ry grave,

"Here gay Alcander, gay, alas! no more,

"Dies far sequester'd from his native shore;[Pg 34] "He late, perhaps, too eager for the fray,

"Chac'd the vile Briton o'er the wat'ry way

21

"'Till fortune jealous, bade her clouds appear, "Turn'd hostile to his fame, and brought him here. "Thus do our warriors, thus our heroes fall, "Imprison'd here, base ruin meets them all,

"Or, sent afar to Britain's barbarous shore, "There die neglected, and return no more: "Ah! rest in peace, poor, injur'd, parted shade, "By cruel hands in death's dark weeds array'd,

"But happier climes, where suns unclouded shine, "Light undisturb'd, and endless peace are thine."-- From Brookland groves a Hessian doctor came, Not great his skill, nor greater much his fame;

Fair Science never call'd the wretch her son, And Art disdain'd the stupid man to own;-- Can you admire that Science was so coy,

Or Art refus'd his genius to employ!--

Do men with brutes an equal dullness share, Or cuts yon' grovelling mole the midway air? In polar worlds can Eden's blossoms blow? Do trees of God in barren desarts grow?

Are loaded vines to Etna's summit known,

Or swells the peach beneath the torrid zone?-- Yet still he doom'd his genius to the rack,

And, as you may suppose, was own'd a quack. He on his charge the healing work begun

With antimonial mixtures, by the tun,

Ten minutes was the time he deign'd to stay, The time of grace allotted once a day--

He drencht us well with bitter draughts, 'tis true, Nostrums from hell, and cortex from Peru-- Some with his pills he sent to Pluto's reign,

And some he blister'd with his flies of Spain;[Pg 35]

His cream of Tartar walk'd its deadly round, Till the lean patient at the potion frown'd,

And swore that hemlock, death, or what you will, Were nonsense to the drugs that stuff 'd his bill.-- On those refusing he bestow'd a kick,

Or menac'd vengeance with his walking stick; Here uncontroul'd he exercis'd his trade,

And grew experienced by the deaths he made; By frequent blows we from his cane endur'd He kill'd at least as many as he cur'd;

On our lost comrades built his future fame, And scatter'd fate, where'er his footsteps came. Some did not seem obedient to his will,

And swore he mingled poison with his pill, But I acquit him by a fair confession,

He was no Englishman--he was a Hessian,[32]-- Although a dunce, he had some sense of sin,

Or else the Lord knows where we now had been; Perhaps in that far country sent to range

Where never prisoner meets with an exchange-- Then had we all been banish'd out of time

Nor I return'd to plague the world with rhyme. Fool though he was, yet candour must confess Not chief Physician was this dog of Hesse-- One master o'er the murdering tribe was plac'd,

By him the rest were honour'd or disgrac'd;--[Pg 36]

22

Once, and but once, by some strange fortune led

He came to see the dying and the dead-- He came--but anger so deform'd his eye, And such a faulchion glitter'd on his thigh, And such a gloom his visage darken'd o'er, And two such pistols in his hands he bore! That, by the gods!--with such a load of steel

He came, we thought, to murder, not to heal-- Hell in his heart, and mischief in his head,

He gloom'd destruction, and had smote us dead, Had he so dar'd--but fate with-held his hand-- He came--blasphem'd--and turn'd again to land. From this poor vessel, and her sickly crew

An English ruffian all his titles drew,

Captain, esquire, commander, too, in chief,

And hence he gain'd his bread, and hence his beef, But, sir, you might have search'd creation round Ere such another miscreant could be found-- Though unprovok'd, an angry face he bore,

We stood astonish'd at the oaths he swore; He swore, till every prisoner stood aghast, And thought him Satan in a brimstone blast; He wish'd us banish'd from the public light, He wish'd us shrouded in perpetual night! That were he king, no mercy would he show, But drive all rebels to the world below;

That if we scoundrels did not scrub the decks

His staff should break our damn'd rebellious necks;

He swore, besides, that if the ship took fire We too should in the pitchy flame expire; And meant it so--this tyrant, I engage,

Had lost his breath to gratify his rage.-- If where he walk'd a captive carcase lay,

Still dreadful was the language of the day--[Pg 37] He call'd us dogs, and would have us'd us so,

But vengeance check'd the meditated blow, The vengeance from our injur'd nation due To him, and all the base, unmanly crew.

Such food they sent, to make complete our woes, It look'd like carrion torn from hungry crows, Such vermin vile on every joint were seen,

So black, corrupted, mortified, and lean That once we try'd to move our flinty chief, And thus address'd him, holding up the beef: "See, captain, see! what rotten bones we pick, "What kills the healthy cannot cure the sick: "Not dogs on such by Christian men are fed, "And see, good master, see, what lousy bread!" "Your meat or bread (this man of flint replied) "Is not my care to manage or provide--

"But this, damn'd rebel dogs, I'd have you know, "That better than you merit we bestow;

"Out of my sight!"----nor more he deign'd to say, But whisk'd about, and frowning, strode away.

Each day, at least three carcases we bore,

And scratch'd them graves along the sandy shore; By feeble hands the shallow graves were made, No stone memorial o'er the corpses laid;

23

In barren sands, and far from home, they lie, No friend to shed a tear, when passing by; O'er the mean tombs insulting Britons tread, Spurn at the sand, and curse the rebel dead. When to your arms these fatal islands fall, (For first or last they must be conquer'd all) Americans! to rites sepulchral just,

With gentlest footstep press this kindred dust, And o'er the tombs, if tombs can then be found,

Place the green turf, and plant the myrtle round.[Pg 38] Americans! a just resentment shew,

And glut revenge on this detested foe;

While the warm blood exults the glowing vein Still shall resentment in your bosoms reign, Can you forget the greedy Briton's ire,

Your fields in ruin, and your domes on fire, No age, no sex from lust and murder free, And, black as night, the hell born refugee! Must York forever your best blood entomb,

And these gorg'd monsters triumph in their doom, Who leave no art of cruelty untry'd;

Such heavy vengeance, and such hellish pride! Death has no charms--his realms dejected lie In the dull climate of a clouded sky;

Death has no charms, except in British eyes,

See, arm'd for death, the infernal miscreants rise; See how they pant to stain the world with gore, And millions murder'd, still would murder more; This selfish race, from all the world disjoin'd, Perpetual discord spread throughout mankind, Aim to extend their empire o'er the ball,

Subject, destroy, absorb, and conquer all,

As if the power that form'd us did condemn

All other nations to be slaves to them--

Rouse from your sleep, and crush the thievish band, Defeat, destroy, and sweep them from the land, Ally'd like you, what madness to despair,

Attack the ruffians while they linger there;

There Tryon sits, a monster all complete,

See Clinton there with vile Knyphausen meet, And every wretch whom honour should detest There finds a home--and Arnold with the rest. Ah! traitors, lost to every sense of shame, Unjust supporters of a tyrant's claim;

Foes to the rights of freedom and of men,

Flush'd with the blood of thousands you have slain, To the just doom the righteous skies decree

We leave you, toiling still in cruelty,

Or on dark plans in future herds to meet,

Plans form'd in hell, and projects half complete: The years approach that shall to ruin bring

Your lords, your chiefs, your miscreant of a king, Whose murderous acts shall stamp his name accurs'd, And his last triumphs more than damn the first.

[26] First published in Philadelphia, by Francis Bailey, in 1781. Freneau wrote the poem during the summer of 1780, immediately after his exchange. The original manuscript is in the possession of Miss Adele M. Sweeney, a great-granddaughter of the poet. The text follows the edition of 1786.

24

On May 25, 1780, Freneau, in the ship Aurora, started from Philadelphia as a passenger for Santa Cruz. The next day, while off Cape Henlopen, the ship was captured by the British frigate Iris, Capt. Hawkes, and the crew and passengers sent to New York as prisoners. For Freneau's account of his capture and captivity, see Some Account of the Capture of the Ship Aurora, 1899.

[27] Freneau was placed on board the Scorpion, June 1, and was exchanged July 12, 1780.

[28] "The weather was very stormy and the river uncommonly rough. The ship rolled considerably, and the water gushed into some of the lower ports, which made some of the landsmen who slept in the cable tier imagine she was sinking. In a moment the alarm became general. 'The ship is sinking! the ship is sinking!' was echoed fore and aft. I expected every moment to feel myself afloat

in the berth where I lay; but at the same time considering it would be a folly to drown between decks when I perhaps might get on shore somehow, I jumped up and hurried toward the main hatchway, where a multitude was endeavouring to get out; the sentries at the same time beating on their heads with their drawn swords and marquets without mercy.... Some lamented that they should never see their wives and children again; others begged by the love of God to be let upon deck and they would bind themselves slaves forever on board a man-of-war, or any other service.... After some trouble we got a light, and examining the pump-well, found the ship dry and tight."--Freneau's Journal.

[29] "One, Gauzoo, was steward of the ship--one of the most brutal of mankind, who abused us continually. It is impossible for words to give his character; it seemed as though he could not give any of us a civil word upon the most indifferent occasion. When he was not cursing us, he kept in his cabin in gloomy reserve, the most vile and detestable of mortals."--Freneau's Journal.

[30] "At sundown we were ordered down between the decks, to the number of nearly three hundred of us. The best lodgings I could procure this night was on a chest, almost suffocated with the heat and stench. I expected to die before morning, but human nature can bear more than one would at first suppose."--Freneau's Journal.

[31] "The Hunter had been very newly put to the use of a hospital-ship. She was miserably dirty and cluttered. Her decks leaked to such a degree that the sick were deluged with every shower of rain. Between decks they lay along struggling in the agonies of death; dying with putrid and bilious fevers; lamenting their hard fate to die at such a fatal distance from their friends; others totally insensible, and yielding their last breath in all the horrors of light-headed frenzy.... Our allowance in the Hunter, to those upon full diet, was one pound of bread and one pound of fresh beef per diem; to those upon half diet, one pound of bread and one-half pound of beef or mutton per diem. Every other day we had a cask of spruce beer sent on board. Our fresh meat was generally heads or shanks, and would just answer to make soup."--Freneau's Journal.

[32] "A German doctor attended every morning at eight o'clock and administered such remedies as were thought proper. Thus things went on, two or three dying every day, who were carried on shore and buried in the bank, till three of our crew, who had got pretty hearty, stole the boat one night and made their escape. This occasioned new trouble. The doctor refused to come on board, and as

he rowed past us next morning to see somebody in the Jersey, which lay near us, some of the sick calling to him for blisters, he told them to put tar on their backs, which would serve as well as anything, and so rowed away. However, after two or three days his wrath was appeased, and he deigned to come on board again."--Freneau's Journal.

[Pg 39]

THE SPY[33]

Sir Henry Clinton, Major Andre, Lucinda, Amelia, Arnold, Gen. Green, Servants to Arnold, Peasants, Knyphausen, Gen. Robertson.

Scene I.--West Point Fort. Jeffery and Pasquin, servants to Arnold, working in a garden.

Pasq. (Throwing down his spade) Faith, Jeffery, I am weary of toiling among these rocks and precipices. I must e'en give o'er. Our master should have fetched his soil along with him to these savage retreats. We may work till we are gray-headed ere we can produce a turnip or a cabbage for him on these barren, unthrifty rocks.

Jeff. Be not discouraged, Pasquin, we shall have better soil to work in ere long. Pasq. How know you that?[Pg 40]

Jeff. I overheard my master t'other day telling a friend of his, whom, by the by, the people of this country call a Tory, that he had planned matters so that in a little time the war would be over, and then he would purchase one of the most fertile tracts of land in

25

America and entitle it a Manor; that he would settle the same goodly possession with tenants and vassals, and so being master among them, spend the remainder of his days in quiet.

Pasq. I pray for the speedy fulfilling of this design. Our master, I know, is an able general. Why, I suppose he intends to rout the enemy out of New York, retake Charleston, conquer the warships of Britain, kill the king, and so force the English nation to make peace with the Americans.

Jeff. Heaven only knows in what manner he intends to act or what his plan may be, but this I am sure of, he keeps it very secret, and

I believe there are not above one or two of his friends that know anything of it.

Pasq. Well, the sooner he gets a new garden for us the better. I have worn out a dozen mattocks and as many spades on these cursed craggy rocks. One's tools to work here should be made of adamant. But, Jeffery, do you not observe how gracious and intimate our master has been for these several months past with some who are called disaffected?

Jeff. I have had it in my mind to make the same observation to you, and do you not perceive that their intimacy daily increases? Pasq. And then, when our master is at table with some of these chosen favorites, how he sneers and hints ludicrous things against

the American officers and army. One would think he heartily despised them, by his behaviour.[Pg 41]

Jeff. And what was it he said of the French the other day? Did he not say they were a perfidious nation of knaves, a herd of needy scoundrels who were endeavoring to conquer this country from the king of Britain, that they might add it to their own dominions and make the people here slaves?

Pasq. And when the general gives a dance or an entertainment or a ball, we see none of the true-heart Americans invited. His guests are a lukewarm, half-disaffected sort of people, who say more than for their own sakes I would choose to mention to everybody.

Jeff. Well, this may all be true, and yet I cannot help thinking our master is a hearty friend to his country. He does these things for a feint, under a mask, as it were, to find out secrets from the enemy. In good faith, I am of opinion he will shortly drive every British soldier off the continent and then become possessed of his Lordship or Manor, or what-so you call it.

Pasq. Amen, I say, and so let us work on in hopes of better times.

Scene II.--Scene changes to New York. Sir Henry Clinton and Major Andre in a private apartment.

Sir Henry. Andre, my friend and faithful confidant,

Since Fortune now vouchsafes to smile again,

And stubborn Charlestown bends to Britain's yoke, What shall we next attempt or next achieve?

I have transmitted home a full account

Of that great capture, that important city Which long has bid defiance to our arms, With all particulars and circumstances Attending on the siege, and in the list

Of British officers with honour mentioned, You, sir, are not forgot. I must confess,[Pg 42] By your advice I planned that expedition, Which now shall set me high in royal favor,

By your unconquered spirit and perseverance,

A mind that laughs at toils and difficulties, I carried on the siege with fire and vigour Against a foe with hearts of adamant,

And found them to submit--but princely favor

Is like a fire that only burns as long

As you afford it fuel. Before this conquest

Of Charlestown wears away, and hardly leaves

A faint impression on the royal mind,

Let's hatch some great exploit, some daring action

That strikes into the heart of this rebellion,

26

That one deed, treading on the heels of t'other, May make us great indeed.

Maj. Andre. I have been thinking

Some time, Sir Henry, what we should be doing.

'Tis yet but early in the active season;

The summer scarce has finished her career,

And in this mild, this pleasing temperate climate Three months as yet are open for campaigns; But then our worn-out, dying, wounded soldiers

Demand our pity. Those who came from Charlestown

Have brought with them a lingering hectic fever Which hardly one survives. Our soldiers here Who do the duty of the garrison,

With constant watching, unremitted labor,

Cannot be spared from hence. Were we sufficient

In horse and foot to combat with the foe, I forthwith would advise your Excellency Once more to try the force of Washington, That so, by killing and by captivating

Him and his troops, we totally might ruin

This only stay, this bulwark of rebellion.[Pg 43] But since our circumstances don't allow

With open force t' attack the hostile lines, Let's try the witching power of bribery. We read the Prince of Macedon declared

That those strong gates his javelins could not pierce

Nor battering ram effect a breach upon, Were open still to gold. [Pauses

Sir Henry. Speak on, my friend,

For I approve the motion to my soul

If any project likely to succeed,

Or well-planned scheme thou canst impart to me, Gold shall not be deficient. Millions lie Appropriated to this very purpose,

And often have I sent to sound some chiefs

Whose qualities and influence are great

In yonder hostile camp, but their stern souls

Are so well armed with more than Spartan virtue

That there corruption seems to have no power,

And all my schemes and plans are come to nothing. Maj. Andre. I know a man

Who, wouldst thou think it, by his chieftain trusted, And even this moment placed in high command, And honoured to profusion by his country--

The Americans in truth almost adore him--

That I do correspond with daily. O Britain, Britain, That one descended from thy true-born sons Should plot against the soil that gave him birth, And for the value of a little gold

Betray its dearest rights.

But traitors are the growth of every country

And Arnold is our own!

Sir Henry. What say you? Arnold?

Can Arnold then be bought? I greet you now!

Arnold, in chief command at West Point fort?[Pg 44] Arnold, who galled our sides in Canada?

Arnold, who took and plundered Montreal?

Gold shall not here be scarce if gold can buy him;

27

Ten thousand sterling pounds are at his service, And twice ten thousand more if he deliver

This West Point fort with its dependencies

Into the hand of Clinton.

Maj. Andre. If we can gain the fort we all things gain, The country round must at our mercy lie;

Then may our shipping sail to Albany, Disbark the troops that march for Saratoga,

Who, taking thence the route to Lake Champlain, May soon reduce the forts, and in a month

Open a new acquaintance with the north, Communicated free to Canada.-- Another great advantage we shall gain:

By being masters then of Hudson's river, We shall cut off all intercourse and passage Between the eastern and the southern states, Which I conceive will be of consequence Toward the speedy ending of the war.

Sir Henry. And so you say that we can buy the fort; Then happy I--my fame and fortune sure;

This service will be of such eminence

That Britain never can requite Sir Henry.

Maj. Andre. I do report that you can buy the fort, For well I know the man I have to deal with;

For just ten thousand guineas

The troops, the fort, and Arnold are your own. And to this man, altho' he be a rascal,

You must consider we are obligated.

He quits his friends, his honour, and his country,

The fame of all his great and brilliant actions,[Pg 45] And the encomiums both of France and Spain, Perhaps all Europe, Britain not excepted,

Sold for ten thousand guineas and to serve us. Sir Henry. And obligated we confess ourselves. This West Point fort--for this a long campaign

I spent along the shores of Hudson's river, And failed at last with loss of Stony Point,

The works, the stores, and twice three hundred soldiers, The prime of all my pack;--yes, powerful gold,

I own thy aid in this extremity.

Tho' Britain be the greatest in the world In ships and men with genius for the sea, Yet cannot her stout navy take this fort

By open force with all its weight of cannon. It stands upon a craggy eminence,

All fenced around with towers and battlements, The works of mighty nature.

To these subjoined the nicest aids of art-- Glacis and bastions, flanks and counter scarps, Horn works and moat, half moons and covert way, Trenches and mines, tenaille and battery,

With guns of every size and every bore, And such a host of desperadoes there,

Who to the last drop of their blood would hold it, That none but devils, I presume, can take it. Beside, in sailing up the Hudson river,

When from this fort you're yet a full mile distant, You turn a point at whose extremity

28

So high the mountains swell above the flood

That in a moment all your sails are lifeless;

The southern breezes die that blew with vigor, And there you lie at mercy of the fort,

Your ships raked fore and aft and ruin around you. But all these difficulties cease if Arnold[Pg 46] Betray the place, as you would fain assure me.

Now tell me, friend, the manner, how and when

You did entice this champion from his duty.

Maj. Andre. From some connection I have had with him, I found the leading feature of his soul

Was avarice. He could feign and counterfeit, Persuade you black was white or white was black, And swear, as interest prompted, false or true. This known, I reasoned thus: If his base soul

Can toil and fret and browbeat death itself, Endure the summer suns and winter snows In tedious route through hyperborean wilds, And sordid wealth alone incites him to it, Why may not British gold have some effect On such a slavish soul? I wrote him straight (Your pardon, sir, it was without your leave) And by a trusty lad I sent the letter,

Sewed in a jacket, to the following import: That if he would forego his present station, Betray the fortress and the garrison,

And he himself come over to our interest,

He should be recompensed in such a manner That he might sit him down at ease in England, Up to the eyes in wealth and laugh at rebels.

Sir Henry. And, pray, what answer did he send to this? Maj. Andre. One that almost outdid my expectation. He wrote me back that if I would adventure

To trust myself within the Americ lines,

He would, by means of secret friends and passports, Gain me admittance to his residence;

Or meeting close in personal interview

In some lone place hereafter to be fixed on,[Pg 47] Confer with me upon the fittest means

Of rendering up his charge. He further added That he was weary of this damned rebellion, For ten thousand guineas would be yours, That doing thus he meant his country's good, And would pursue it to his utmost power.

Sir Henry. Upon a lucky hour you thought of Arnold. But, friend, I charge you, if this scheme succeed,

Take not the merit of it to yourself;

But let the world imagine it was Clinton

Who schemed, who plotted, and seduced the villain; That by this deed more honour I may gain

Than if I had defeated Washington

By dint of blows on yonder Jersey plain.

Your recompense shall not be wanting, Andre;

My trusty friend, go make haste toward the highlands. A frigate shall be ready to convey you.

Accept the proffered conference, and bring

Plans of the fort and all its avenues,

The number of the soldiers that defend it,

29

And whate'er else may be of service to us;

That tho' if by chance his treason be discovered, And his designments lose their consummation, We may have somewhat to facilitate--

Some bold attack that may hereafter be Upon this proud and self-sufficient fortress. Maj. Andre. But, sir, consider. If I undertake So bold a stroke as this, I risk my life,

Perhaps may meet an ignominious death. When once I pass the British lines, that instant Do I become a spy. That character

Ever belongs to common, vulgar men,

To suttlers and to pedlars, desperate wretches,[Pg 48] The rubbish and the scourings of the world;

Can I descend to so desperate an office? Sir Henry. But, then, your country!-- Consider what it is you owe your country. Distressed she combats with revolted nations, And can't by force reduce them to subjection; Assist her while you can, and take my word, You need not fear an apprehension.

I charge you, be not found within their lines; Remember still to keep on neutral ground, Unless a flag of truce be sent from Arnold That will secure your person and the plot. But if by chance you should be questioned By any scouting parties of militia,

A purse of shillings scattered to the wretches

Will soon procure a passage unmolested.

I long to hear the upshot of this meeting, The Vulture man-of-war is at your service, And shall to-morrow take you up the river As far as she with safety may adventure.

Maj. Andre. Then for the sake of Britain and of you

Will I to Arnold haste away, Sir Harry.

If things succeed, as I expect they shall, Within three days will I be back to tell you The means we fall upon to gain the fort. Act II.

Scene I.--Enter an aide-de-camp from General Washington to Arnold. Scene, West Point Fort. Time, midnight.

Aide D. C. Sir, I am sent by our renowned general

To let you know that in his best opinion

Five hundred men in reason are too few

To man the works of this important post.[Pg 49] Three thousand, he informs, are at your service, Lying at camp, with stores and baggage ready, Whene'er you send a requisition for them.

Arnold. Five hundred are too few! Why, sir, what means he? I do assert, and do insist upon it,

That with the aid of scant two hundred men I could defend this fort and all its outworks (Its strength is so prodigious in defence) Against ten legions of the boldest Britons, With Clinton at the head to lead them on, Whether he choose to come by sea or land.

Aide D. C. Well be it so. I have discharged my duty

30

In bringing you our noble general's message.

Pray, sir, have you commands to send from hence? My time to stay is short; I must be going.

Arnold. Tho' I am steady to my sentiment, That these five hundred men are full sufficient, Yet, to comply with the spirit of his meaning, You may inform the general, two hours' warning Will bring me in four thousand of militia.

They are as rugged and as hardy fellows,

As bold and desperate in the works of war, As skilled to hit the mark or push the bagnet, As any of the choicest continentals.

Pray tell the general this, and I am sure,

I'm satisfied, he'll be of my opinion. [Exit Aide D. C.

Arnold (solus). This is the time for dark and dangerous action; This is the time that thieves and murderers choose

To execute their desperate designs.

But art thou, Arnold, less than murderer,

Who thus prepare to stab thy bleeding country?[Pg 50] And can I then descend to be a traitor!

By honest toils a name have I acquired, Great and unequalled in the rolls of fame; And shall that name to infamy be doomed By one base act that mars and cankers all? For this have I in winter's joyless reign

Explored the naked wilds of northern clime,

When mid the snows and frosts and chilling winds

Cold earth has been my bed. Ambition, rise

And fire my soul to nobler purposes.

To-morrow Major Andre comes to meet me, And I am to consult on ways and means

To give this fort up to my country's foes. Shall I repent of my unjust proceedings, Admit this daring Briton to my portal, And say I did thus to entrap the man Who is grand vizar to Sir Henry Clinton?

Whose scheming head doth hurt our country more

Than all their host beside?

But that would be ungenerous--more than that, Ten thousand guineas are the offered price

Of my desertion--more than that, perhaps I shall henceforward be caressed by kings And bear a generalship that may reduce These states revolted back to Britain's sway.

* For now I do imagine

They have no rights, no claims to independence. Born were we all, subjected to a king,

And that subjection must return again. The people are not dull republicans,

By nature they incline to monarchy.

How glorious should I be to have a share

In bringing back my country to allegiance.

Can France uphold them in their proud demand,[Pg 51]

That race of puny, base, perfidious dogs? Sooner shall all the house of Bourbon sink Their Rochambault, D'Estang and La Fayette, And Spain confederate cease to be a nation, And all their allies dwindle into atoms,

31

Ere Britain will withdraw her righteous claim

Or yield a jot of her dominion here

To any people living. Then, Andre, come, The sooner Britain gains this fort the better. Scene II.--Major Andre, Lucinda. Parlor.

Maj. Andre. I cannot leave this city, sweet Lucinda, without imparting to you that I am going a little way toward the American lines,

at the request of his Excellency, upon some business of importance. I am come to chat a little with you ere I go. It may be some days before you see me again.

Lucinda. If it be not too great a presumption in me, my dear Major, I would beg to know whether you depart on a peaceable or hostile errand. You must pardon a woman's curiosity. I had a frightful dream about you a few nights ago, which I cannot banish from my mind ever since.

Maj. Andre. I am happy, madam, in being the subject of your dreams. But dreams are delusions of the mind, mere vagaries and whimsies not to be attended to. You may remember that, prior to our Charlestown expedition, you discouraged me a good deal with a vision you had of a vessel shipwrecked, and myself with the other passengers drowned, and yet little or nothing was intimated thereby. We made our passage safe, conquered the place, and returned with victory and honor.[Pg 52]

Lucinda. True. But your fleet endured a terrible hurricane, in which many perished.

Maj. Andre. O Lucinda, thou art a dreamer of dreams, thou thinkest, love.

Lucinda. This last was represented to my mind in quite a different manner, in such lively colours that I cannot help thinking some evil is foreboded to you.

Maj. Andre. Poh! Let's hear the extraordinary dream, then, that we may laugh a little at it.

Lucinda. I imagined myself in a country where the skies were forever cloudy and gloomy, with frequent bursts of thunder and flashes of lightning. Among many other objects, all of which seemed disconsolate and melancholy, I saw you endeavouring to reach the summit of a sharp, craggy precipice. You leaped with surprising agility over dark gulfs and apertures therein, which no other man would have thought of passing. The spectators admired your activity and daring spirit. The continual obstacles in your way seemed nothing to you, and at length you bid fair to gain the summit, when, catching hold of a shrub, which was but slightly rooted in one

of the crevices of the rock, it instantly gave way, and you tumbled to the bottom, dashed to pieces on the pointed crags and torn in a shocking manner. I shrieked out and waked.

Maj. Andre. Your dream was frightful indeed; but still it was nothing but a dream. Why, I have imagined before now in my sleep that I have tumbled down ten thousand fathoms in a perpendicular line; but all this was owing to mere mechanical causes, the motion of the animal spirits or the veins being rather too replete with blood.

Lucinda. Well, be it so. I hope my dream may be the forerunner of no mischief. But are you going[Pg 53] out on a fighting expedition, sir, if I may be so bold to ask the question?

Maj. Andre. My dearest love, I will conceal nothing from you. I know you are the girl of a thousand for keeping a secret. It must not take air. I have corrupted General Arnold. He is to sell West Point fort to me, and this evening I am to set out and consult with him upon the fittest means to blind the eyes of the Samson and deliver up the place to Sir Henry without danger of failure.

Lucinda. But could not some person be deputized for this purpose whose life is not of such value to Britain as yours? You are a proud soul to Sir Henry Clinton. He enterprises nothing without first having your advice and direction. If you should be intercepted in your way by the Americans, would it not endanger your life, my dear Andre, to be found without some mission or any plausible excuse for being within an enemy's lines?

Maj. Andre. You are too timorous, Lucinda. I shall go and come by water in an armed ship. I may perhaps just venture on shore in

a ----[34] of time, but shall take care not to expose myself to any danger. I well know how far to venture, but if the worst come to the worst, I can tell them I have deserted from the British. Then I shall be caressed among them till such times as I can find an opportunity to escape and join my countrymen.

Lucinda. You venture all this, you say, at the request of Sir Henry?

32

Maj. Andre. Yes; but chiefly to serve my country. Had I a thousand lives, I would lay them all down for Britain and my king. But I must go. You deject my[Pg 54] spirits, my girl. A woman is destructive to the spirit of enterprise in a man. Poh! I am growing melancholy too. You must cheer my drooping soul, Lucinda. I heard you humming a little song the other day. Do let's have it. I think it begins thus: "My native shades delight no more."

Lucinda. Although I am in no humour for music, you shall hear it, my love. I suppose it was made by some British officer on his setting out for America, who was as great an idolater to his king and country as most English gentlemen.

[Sings

My native shades delight no more,[35] I haste to meet the ocean's roar,

I seek a wild inclement shore

Beyond the Atlantic main:

'Tis virtue calls!--I must away!--

Nor care nor pleasure tempts my stay, Nor all that love himself can say,

A moment shall detain.[Pg 55]

To meet those hosts who dare disown

Allegiance to Britannia's throne,

I draw the sword that pities none, I draw their rebel blood;

Amazement shall their troops confound, When hackt and prostrate on the ground; My blade shall drink from every wound

A life-restoring flood!

The swarthy Indian, yet unbroke, Shall bind his neck to Britain's yoke, Or flee from her avenging stroke

To deserts all unknown;

The southern isles shall own her sway, Peru and Mexico obey,

And those who yet to Satan pray

Beyond the southern zone.

For George the Third I dare to fall, Since he to me is all in all;

May he subdue this earthly ball

And nations tribute bring.

Yon western states shall wear his chain, Where traitors now with tyrants reign, And subject shall be all the main

To George, our potent king.

When honour calls to guard his throne, My life I dare not call my own;

My life I yield without a groan

For him whom I adore.

In lasting glory shall he reign,

'Tis he shall conquer France and Spain, Tho' I perhaps may ne'er again

Behold my native shore.[Pg 56]

Maj. Andre. You sing charmingly, Lucinda. The poor fellow's resolution pleases me. He engages to give his life, if necessary, for his king and country, and yet perhaps he feels the ingratitude of both every hour in the day. It must, however, be so. Nature has formed us with a principle of love to our native land. What say you, Lucinda?

Lucinda. It may be so, sir; and yet that love need not carry us to such an idolatrous extravagance as is manifested in the little stanzas I

had the pleasure of singing to you.

33

Maj. Andre. Indeed you are in the right, but we are slaves to custom.

Lucinda. I have sung to please you, my love; now, if you have leisure, I would beg your attention a moment to a little ditty that pleases myself.

Maj. Andre. Most gladly, my angel; I can prolong half an hour yet in your agreeable company. [Looking at his watch

Lucinda sings[36]

You chide me and tell me I must not complain

To part a few days from my favourite swain.

He is gone to the battle and leaves me to mourn, And say what you please, he will never return.

When he left me he kissed me, and said, my sweet dear, In less than a month I again will be here;

With anguish and sorrow my bosom did burn, And I wept, being sure he would never return. I said, my dear creature, I beg you would stay,

But he with his soldiers went strutting away.[Pg 57] Then why should I longer my sorrows adjourn,

For I know in my heart he will never return. Whenever there's danger he loves to be there, He fights like a hero when others despair.

In this expedition he goes to his urn; You call me a fool if he ever return.

Maj. Andre. The application of this I must take to myself, I suppose. Fie upon you, lady; you need to divert me with merry jokes and a strain of wit peculiar to yourself. You now are pensive, demure, and melancholy. You make me so, too.

Lucinda. Yonder comes Sir Henry. I suppose he has some private business with you. I must retire. [Exit Lucinda. Enter Sir Henry and others

Maj. Andre. How do your Excellencies? Will you please to sit?

Sir Henry. Till you return from this important errand

I am a slave to impatience, Major Andre.

I beg you would this night equip with speed, And on an eagle's wings to Arnold haste. The frigate lies at single anchor ready,

And winds propitious to our purpose blow. But hark ye, friend, and tell the general then That if he can by any means at all,

On any artful, plausible pretence,

So manage matters and with such address

As to entice the great Americ chief,

At that same hour the fort is yielded to us, There to be present on some feigned business, That so we may be master of his person,

Tell him if he does this his pay is double.

Besides ten thousand guineas we have promised,[Pg 58] Ten thousand more with gratitude I'll pay,

And think him cheaply bought. He is the soul, The great upholder of this long contention.

I dread his prudence and his courage more Than all the armies that the Congress raise, Than all the troops or all the ships of France.

34

Maj. Andre. Well thought! I shall obey your Excellency. It is a bold and dangerous undertaking,

'Tis hazardous, but not impossible.

To win on this great chief--'tis a bright thought. He'll think himself as safe at West Point Fort

As in the bosom of his spacious camp, And therefore will not hesitate to come Only attended by a score of guards.

The same attempt may seize the fort and him.

Sir Henry. And be precise to fix the time, when we

Must take possession of the citadel. Against the hour that I expect you back

Five thousand troops shall be embarked and ready

To execute whatever plan you fix on.

[Exit Sir Henry. Reenter Lucinda with a handkerchief to her eyes

Maj. Andre. The time is come that is appointed for my departure. It is impossible that even beauty or wit or tears can now withhold me from my purpose. I have promised his Excellency and now to hesitate would prove me to be a coward, one altogether unworthy to be trusted with any business that requires wit and dexterity.

Lucinda. Your resolution is fixed, and I do not desire you to fall from it; only if heaven should so order that any fatal accident befall you, remember the unfortunate Lucinda. She sends her good wishes along[Pg 59] with you, and prays for all imaginable prosperity on every undertaking in which Major Andre bears a part.

Maj. Andre. My thanks to you, my dearest. If a heart so good as thine petition heaven for my safety, I have nothing to fear. Thy prayers are my guardian angels, and will protect me in every danger. My honour calls me and I must go. Give me a parting kiss, my dear. Adieu, adieu.

[He leaves her

Now native courage warm my wavering breast,

And fires of resolution blaze within me, For I must on a dangerous errand go, With secret cunning to deceive the foe,

Whose active souls in dire connections meet, Where one false step my ruin makes complete. Ye guardian powers that still protect the brave, Some pity on distressed Britain have.

By me she seeks some portion to regain

Of her lost empire, tried so oft in vain.

But dreadful scenes before my eyes appear, And dangers thicken as they draw more near. But soft--no dangers can my heart appal,

I have a soul that can despise them all. More than an equal chance for life I see,

But life and death must be the same to me. [Exit

Act III.

Scene I.--Robinson's house. A stormy night. Arnold. Pasquin. Arnold. How looks the weather?

Pasquin. Stormy, sir; very stormy; it blows terrifically and there is heavy rain.

Arnold. Pasquin! Pasquin. Sir.[Pg 60]

35

Arnold. Tell the sentries upon duty to-night that I expect a gentleman of my acquaintance here about ten o'clock. When he comes to the outer gate, bid one of them conduct him to my apartment.

Pasquin. Your honour shall be obeyed. [Exit

Arnold (solus). Peace to this gloomy grove that sees me acting

What open daylight would disdain to own. Ye wood, be witness of my dark designs, And shade me o'er, ye lofty eminences; Tremendous gloom, encompass me around

In clouds that wing from Greenland's foggy caves, Plutonian darkness on your pinions bring,

Conceal my base intent from human view, And be the daylight still a stranger to it. Storm on, ye wind, the tempest that ye make In the broad regions of the troubled ether

Is quiet to the tumult of my soul! Departing honour,--take thy last adieu,

'Tis this night's deed that stamps me for a villain. Who comes there?

[Enter Pasquin

Pasquin. Sir, there is a traveller just alighted at Sergeant Jones's quarters, who desires to know whether he can have a little private conference with you, and asked me whether you were alone or no.

Arnold. A traveller? How is he dressed?

Pasquin. He has on a plain suit of blue clothes, a cocked beaver hat and draw boots. He rides a common bay horse, and by his general appearance one would suppose him to be a commissary, or perhaps a quarter-master.

Arnold. How came you to know all these particulars; the night being so dark and stormy?

Pasquin. I had a glimpse of him by means of a[Pg 61] lanthorn we carried out when he got off his horse. Over all, I forgot to mention, he had a fear-naught riding coat.

Arnold. A plain blue suit, you say? Pasquin. Yes.

Arnold. And draw boots? Pasquin. Yes.

Arnold. And wore he sword?

Pasquin. No; he had no sword, that I saw.

Arnold. And what aspect is he? Is he a well-looking man?

Pasquin. As handsome a man, please your honour, as ever the sun shone upon. It did me good to look upon him.

Arnold (aside). This must be him. [To Pasquin] Bid the sergeant show him the way to me immediately, and put up his horse in my own stable. He is from Philadelphia, a friend and relative of mine.

[Exit Pasquin

36

Arnold (solus). This is Major Andre, indeed. We have agreed in our correspondence that he shall pass here under the name of Captain Ashton, to prevent suspicion.

[Sergeant introduces Major Andre

Arnold. Captain Ashton, my friend, how are you? Please to draw near the fire and sit. How do our friends at Philadelphia? [Exit

sergeant] The booby is now gone, and we may talk freely without suspicion.

Maj. Andre. I am happy at length to see General Arnold, with whom I have corresponded so long at a distance. I hope, my dear general, you are ready to perform your promise.

Arnold. Undoubtedly the fort shall be yours within three days, upon the conditions I mentioned to you in[Pg 62] my last letter. I

hope you have apprised Sir Henry of them.

Maj. Andre. Yes, sir. He is satisfied, and thinks your demand really moderate; but now let us to the point. We must fall upon some plan by which we must act without much danger of miscarriage. Would it not be best that our troops should seem to take the fort by surprise, and thus prevent the world from having any suspicion of treachery in the case?

Arnold. I have had the same thought, my dear sir. Besides, if we can make this pass, I shall become a prisoner of war to you in appearance, be exchanged after a little time, and so be in a capacity to serve you again; or, pretending the fort not tenable, I may make my escape during your attack, and all this without any suspicion on the part of the Americans.

Maj. Andre. God grant your scheme may be successful.

Arnold. Now hear what I have to propose further. When you are embarked with your army, suppose one or two thousand men or more sail up the river as far as you safely can, short of the fort, and endeavour to make the country believe you are on a plundering expedition. I shall have companies out who will give me notice of all your movements. Then land your men, march up to the fort, demand a surrender, which I will absolutely refuse. Upon which hang out your bloody flag and fire against the walls point blank, without mercy. In that part of the fortress where I shall be, you will see a small white flag flying. Do not fire to that quarter. The garrison shall discharge the artillery three times over your heads, after which I will surrender and open the gates to you. Then, by not putting one of the garrison to death, which would be your right, you[Pg 63] having stormed it, you will have an excellent opportunity of giving the world a new instance of British humanity. Then you may pour your troops into the fort, take possession of it, and hoist the British flag. The prisoners may immediately be sent to the shipping and ordered to New York before the Continental forces will have a chance of hindering the embarkation. What say you?

Maj. Andre. Excellently well imagined. I hope it may succeed. The money shall be paid you on your arrival at York; but there is another service Sir Henry would fain hope you could indulge him in, and your reward shall be double.

Arnold. What may it be?

Maj. Andre. He is eager to be possessed of your Commander-in-Chief. Could you contrive no way to get him into our hands? He is the soul of this obstinate rebellion. Were he a prisoner to us, America would soon be ours again.

Arnold (pausing). Why, true, it would greatly facilitate the recovery of the colonies. Let me see. I will endeavour to prevail upon him to spend a day or two at Robinson's home. Nay, I am sure he will be here next Monday, and the garrison. There are a number of disaffected people not far from hence, whom I can engage to secure his person and convey him on board the Vulture ship of war.

Maj. Andre. If we become by your means possessed of these two jewels, General Washington and this important fort, we shall never

think the obligation sufficiently acknowledged. You will become the greatest man in the world. Britain will adore you. She will kiss

the very ground you tread upon, besides lavishing wealth upon you by millions.[Pg 64]

Arnold. She is heartily welcome to such poor services as I can render her. What I do is from principle, from the consciousness of a rectitude of heart and love to my country.

Maj. Andre. Sir, you were born to be a great man. Now, if you will be pleased to deliver me the plan of the fort, signals of recog-nizance and other papers of consequence in this affair, I will be going. I do not think myself safe till such times as I get within the British lines again.

37

Arnold. The danger is trifling. With a passport from me, you may go anywhere in these colonies.

Maj. Andre. Sir, I thank you. It may be of service indeed.

Arnold. I will write it immediately. There, sir; and here is the packet. I will not detain you, because I know the business requires dispatch. You will, however, sup with me, and take a glass of wine before you go.

Maj. Andre. I shall hardly have time; however, I will wait half an hour.

Arnold. Walk with me into this other apartment; we soldiers do not stand upon ceremony. But how do you carry these papers so as to conceal them in case you meet with any over-curious persons?

Maj. Andre. I have an expedient. I can carry them in the foot of my boot. Do you see how snug they lie? [Putting them on

Arnold. Aye, faith, that was well thought of; but do not put the passport in your boot. Maj. Andre. No, no. That goes into my pocket.

[Pg 65]

Scene II.--An ancient stone building in the Dutch taste. Three officers, Vincent, Ambrose, Asmith. Vincent and Asmith entering.

Am. Well are we met in these sequestered wilds; Whence come ye, brothers, at so late an hour?

Vin. From scouring all the country up and down, To seize, if fortune please, illicit traders,

Who are so bold and unscrupulous grown

That oft in open day, as well as night,

They bear large cargoes of provision down To yonder ships that still infest our river. How I detest these underhanded scoundrels, Who, hungry as the grave for British gold,

Feed the vile foe that lurks within our harbours.

Am. Gods! Can they be so base,--but there are they

Who sell their country for a mess of pottage,-- A servile, scheming race whose god is gain,

Who for a little gold would stab their fathers And plunder life from her who gave them life. These are not true Americans. They are

A spurious race--scum, dregs, and bastards all. They are not true Americans, I say.

As. They cannot be, they help toward our ruin. But, gentlemen, I'll tell you what I think;

We have so many lurking foes within, And such a potent enemy without, That I almost despair, I must confess,

That ever we shall rend these thirteen States From persevering Britain, and compel Acknowledgment of independence here. Vin. Say not so.

The rights of humanity, 'tis these we fight for,[Pg 66]

And not to carry ruin round the globe. Appearances are so much in our favour

That he who doubts that this event shall be, Must be as blind as he whose useless orbs Have never drank the radiated light.

38

Nay, he who doubts of this, who dares to doubt

(If nature be not ----[37] to miracles And devils rule with delegated sway) Deserves not nor is worthy to enjoy The paradise we look for.

Amb. Be it so.

But let us leave the great event to fate,

Who soon or late will bring to light its purpose; Our duty to our country must be done,

And in so doing we its freedom hasten.

But, friends, why stay we here? By yonder stars

That still revolving point toward the pole,

I find it must be midnight.

Vin. I do expect a score of peasants here, A set of hardy, bold, and faithful fellows, Whom I can trust in all emergencies.

In different parties I shall these despatch Toward the hostile lines, for I suspect That intercourse too often doth subsist Between our disaffected and the foe. Amb. And are these peasants armed?

Vin. Armed with a musquet and a bayonet; A true and desperate soldier wants no more. As. And thirty cartridges to every man,

With three days' victuals in their knapsacks stored. Amb. It is enough. I hope they will not tarry.

[Pg 67]

Scene III.--A number of armed peasants in an outhouse.

1st P. Do you know what we are sent for, brother Harry?

2nd P. To go on some secret expedition, I suppose.

1st P. And which way shall we bend, think ye?

2nd P. God bless you. Why do you ask such a question? It is not for us to know where we are going. We shall know bye and bye, I

warrant you, after we have marched two or three score of miles.

1st P. And where are our officers?

2nd P. They are in the adjoining house. They will be with us presently.

3rd P. And how shall we pass the time till they come?

2nd P. O, merrily enough. We can dance and sing.

1st P. Harry, you can sing. Give us a song.

2nd P. [Sings

Ours not to sleep in shady bowers,[38] When frosts are chilling all the plain, And nights are cold and long the hours To check the ardor of the swain,

Who parting from his cheerful fire

39

All comforts doth forego, And here and there

And everywhere

Pursues the prowling foe.

2nd P. How like you that?[Pg 68]

3rd P. O, very well. I love to hear anything that touches upon the hardships of a soldier's life.

4th P. Give us the rest; give us the rest. I love that song, Harry.

2nd P.

But we must sleep in frost and snows, No season shuts up our campaign; Hard as the oaks, we dare oppose

The autumn's or the winter's reign. Alike to us the winds that blow

In summer's season gay, Or those that rave

On Hudson's wave

And drift his ice away.

For Liberty, celestial maid,

With joy all hardships we endure. In her blest smiles we are repaid, In her protection are secure. Then rise superior to the foe,

Ye freeborn souls of fire;

Respect these arms,

'Tis freedom warms, To noble deeds aspire.

Winter and death may change the scene, The cold may freeze, the ball may kill, And dire misfortunes intervene;

But freedom shall be potent still

To drive these Britons from our shore, Who, cruel and unkind,

With slavish chain

Attempt in vain

Our freeborn limbs to bind.[Pg 69]

Pasq. O, excellent--"Our freeborn limbs to bind"--by my soul, they never shall bind mine. Harry, give us another song on our affairs and then we'll be ready.

All. Ay, ay; another, another.

2nd P. I have not many by heart. I do recollect one at present, but it was made at the beginning of the war. All. No matter, no matter; let's hear it.

2nd P.

[Sings

The cohorts of Britain are now all complete,

She has brushed up her soldiers and manned out her fleet;

The lion has roared whose trade is to kill,

And we are the victims whose blood he must spill. But ere I am slaughtered and wrapped in a shroud

I must tell you the motive that makes him so proud.

40

The monkeys and puppies that bow to his rule Have told him a lie and deceived the old fool. They say we are cowards, not dressed in red coats, That he without danger may cut all our throats;

If we see but a Briton, confounded with fear,

We'll throw down our muskets and run like a deer. That one thousand men with a captain would dare

To march from New Hampshire to Georgia, they swear. But here lies the trick of these wonderful men,

They tell us they'll do it, but do not say when.

Such a motive to fight would you ever conceive,

Yet such is the motive that makes him so brave.[Pg 70] On such a presumption, in hopes of applause,

He whets up his grinders and sharpens his claws. But hark, Mr. Lion, and be not so stout,

In fancy alone you have put us to rout.

To show you how little your threat'nings avail,

Here's a kick at your breech and a clip at your tail.[39]

*

But everything seems poisoned where I tread, And I am tortured to perfection.

[Exit. Enter an officer of the guard

Scene IV.--Another apartment in said house. Enter Aide to Gen. Arnold.

Aide. General Arnold here?

Jeff. Two hours have hardly yet elapsed since he

Across the river to the garrison

On some important business went in haste, So as I told to his attendant here.

For since the general parted I arrived. Is he, then, at the garrison? by heaven, We'll have him in a trice.

Aide. You'll have him in a trice. Pray, what means that? Jeff. I see your ignorance, my honest friend.

Why such a damned, unnatural plot has happened

That when I mention it, if you have feeling,

At the first word your blood must chill with horror

And admiration shake your very soul.

This traitor Arnold, this vile, abandoned traitor, This monster of ingratitude unequalled,[Pg 71] Has been conspiring with an English spy

To render tip the fort to General Clinton.

Aide. What fort? the fort at West Point, mean you? Jeff. The fort at West Point, on my sacred honour, The garrison, dependencies, and stores,

And, what is more, the person of our leader.

Five thousand troops at York are now embarked, And even wait this night to take possession.

Aide. Is this reality; sure you are jesting.

And yet you serious seem to be of countenance. Lips that quiver, eyes that glow with passion, Tempt me to think your story may be true.

And yet I doubt it. Came you here to seize him? Jeff. Nay, doubt it not. I have the papers with me That at a glance betray this horrid treason.

Aide. For what could he do this?

Was it Resentment, Avarice, Ambition

41

That prompted him to act the traitor's part? And yet I'm sure it never could be avarice. His country lavishes her wealth upon him; He has the income of a little king,

And perquisites that by a hundred ways

Not only the base wants of life supply,

But deck him out in elegance and grandeur. Perhaps, indeed, he has ambitious views:

He aims to make his court to Britain's king, And rise upon the ruins of his country. Perhaps it is resentment and disgust,

For many hate him, and have often said

He fattens on the plunder of the public.

Jeff. 'Tis avarice, sir, that base, unmanly motive. The glare of British gold has captivated

This hero, as we thought him. What a curse,[Pg 72] That human souls can of such stuff be moulded, That they, foregoing fame and character,

E'en for the sake of what is despicable, Be foe to virtue and to virtue's friend.

But such are to be found, and every age has seen 'em, Who, for the sake of mere external show,

Some qualities that seemed to them attractive----[40]

[33] This fragment of a drama, as far as I can find, was never published. Freneau, judging from indications, wrote it shortly after his "Prison Ship," in the autumn of 1780, only a few weeks after the events took place which it records. It exists, as far as I know, only in Freneau's fragmentary and much-revised autograph manuscript now in the possession of Miss Adele M. Sweeney of Jersey City. The arrest of Andre took place September 23, 1780.

[34] Here occurs an illegible word in Freneau's manuscript.

[35] This poem was first published in the edition of 1786 under the title, "The English Quixote of 1778; or, Modern Idolatry." In the

1809 edition Freneau added the following: Epilogue

'Tis so well known 'tis hardly worth relating

That men have worshipped gods, though of their own creating: Art's handy work they thought they might adore,

And bowed to gods that were but logs before. Idols, of old, were made of clay or wood,

And, in themselves, did neither harm nor good, Acted as though they knew the good old rule,

"Friend, hold thy peace, and you'll be thought no fool." Britons! their case is yours--and linked in fate,

You, like your Indian allies--good and great-- Bow to some frowning block yourselves did rear, And worship wooden monarchs--out of fear.

[36] This lyric has been used by Freneau in his poem, "Mars and Hymen," q. v. [37] An illegible word.

[38] This poem had also been used in "Mars and Hymen." In later editions it was printed as a distinct lyric, with the title "The

Northern Soldier." The present version, reprinted from Freneau's manuscript, will be seen to differ considerably from the others. [39] A part of the manuscript is missing at this point.

[40] Here the manuscript ends abruptly.

42

[Pg 73] PART III

ERA OF THE FREEMAN'S JOURNAL

1781--1790 [Pg 74]

[Pg 75]

ERA OF THE FREEMAN'S JOURNAL

1781--1790[41]

[41] This period began in August, 1781, when Freneau became connected with Mr. Francis Bailey's Freeman's Journal, in Philadelphia. In June, 1784, he left Philadelphia for a wandering career upon the ocean, which continued until 1790, when his assumption of the editorship of the New York Advertiser and his marriage put an end for a time to his wanderings. The greater part of the poems written during this period appeared originally in the Freeman's Journal.

ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY[42]

Obtained by the gallant Captain Paul Jones, of the Good Man Richard, over the Seraphis, etc., under the command of Captain

Pearson.

Written August, 1781

1

O'er the rough main with flowing sheet The guardian of a numerous fleet, Seraphis from the Baltic came;

A ship of less tremendous force

Sail'd by her side the self-same course, Countess of Scarb'ro' was her name.[Pg 76]

2

And now their native coasts appear, Britannia's hills their summits rear Above the German main;

Fond to suppose their dangers o'er, They southward coast along the shore, Thy waters, gentle Thames, to gain.

3

Full forty guns Seraphis bore,

And Scarb'ro's Countess twenty-four, Mann'd with Old England's boldest tars-- What flag that rides the Gallic seas

Shall dare attack such piles as these, Design'd for tumults and for wars!

4

Now from the topmast's giddy height A seaman cry'd--"Four sail in sight "Approach with favouring gales;" Pearson, resolv'd to save the fleet, Stood off to sea these ships to meet, And closely brac'd his shivering sails.

5

With him advanc'd the Countess bold,

43

Like a black tar in wars grown old:

And now these floating piles drew nigh;

But, muse, unfold what chief of fame In th' other warlike squadron came, Whose standards at his mast head fly.

6

'Twas Jones, brave Jones, to battle led

As bold a crew as ever bled

Upon the sky surrounded main;[Pg 77] The standards of the Western World Were to the willing winds unfurl'd, Denying Britain's tyrant reign.

7

The Good Man Richard led the line; The Alliance next: with these combine The Gallic ship they Pallas call:

The Vengeance, arm'd with sword and flame,

These to attack the Britons came-- But two accomplish'd all.

8

Now Phoebus sought his pearly bed: But who can tell the scenes of dread, The horrors of that fatal night!

Close up these floating castles came;

The Good Man Richard bursts in flame;

Seraphis trembled at the sight.

9

She felt the fury of her ball,

Down, prostrate down, the Britons fall; The decks were strew'd with slain:

Jones to the foe his vessel lash'd; And, while the black artillery flash'd, Loud thunders shook the main.

10

Alas! that mortals should employ Such murdering engines, to destroy That frame by heav'n so nicely join'd; Alas! that e'er the god decreed

That brother should by brother bleed,

And pour'd such madness in the mind.[Pg 78]

11

But thou, brave Jones, no blame shalt bear; The rights of men demand thy care:

For these you dare the greedy waves-- No tyrant on destruction bent

Has planned thy conquests--thou art sent

To humble tyrants and their slaves.

12

See!--dread Seraphis flames again-- And art thou, Jones, among the slain, And sunk to Neptune's caves below--

He lives--though crowds around him fall, Still he, unhurt, survives them all;

Almost alone he fights the foe.

13

And can thy ship these strokes sustain? Behold thy brave companions slain,

All clasp'd in ocean's dark embrace.

44

"Strike, or be sunk!"--the Briton cries-- "Sink, if you can!"--the chief replies, Fierce lightnings blazing in his face.

14

Then to the side three guns he drew, (Almost deserted by his crew)

And charg'd them deep with woe:

By Pearson's flash he aim'd the balls; His main-mast totters--down it falls-- Tremendous was the blow.[43][Pg 79]

15

Pearson as yet disdain'd to yield,

But scarce his secret fears conceal'd, And thus was heard to cry--

"With hell, not mortals, I contend; "What art thou--human, or a fiend, "That dost my force defy?

16

"Return, my lads, the fight renew!" So call'd bold Pearson to his crew; But call'd, alas! in vain;

Some on the decks lay maim'd and dead;

Some to their deep recesses fled,

And more were bury'd in the main.[44]

17

Distress'd, forsaken, and alone,

He haul'd his tatter'd standard down, And yielded to his gallant foe;

Bold Pallas soon the Countess took, Thus both their haughty colours struck, Confessing what the brave can do.

18

But, Jones, too dearly didst thou buy These ships possest so gloriously, Too many deaths disgrac'd the fray:

Thy barque that bore the conquering flame,

That the proud Briton overcame,

Even she forsook thee on thy way;[Pg 80]

19

For when the morn began to shine, Fatal to her, the ocean brine

Pour'd through each spacious wound; Quick in the deep she disappear'd,

But Jones to friendly Belgia steer'd, With conquest and with glory crown'd.

20

Go on, great man, to daunt the foe, And bid the haughty Britons know They to our Thirteen Stars shall bend; The Stars that veil'd in dark attire, Long glimmer'd with a feeble fire,

But radiant now ascend;

21

Bend to the Stars that flaming rise In western, not in eastern, skies, Fair Freedom's reign restor'd.

So when the Magi, come from far, Beheld the God-attending Star,

45

They trembled and ador'd.

[42] This was the first poem contributed by Freneau to the Freeman's Journal. It appeared August 8, 1781. The exploit of Jones is

too well known to need further comment; it took place September 23, 1779. The text follows the edition of 1786. [43] "Overwhelming half below."--Ed. 1795.

[44] "And hosts were shrouded in the main."--Ed. 1795. [Pg 81]

AN ADDRESS[45]

To the Commander-in-Chief, Officers, and Soldiers of the American Army

Accept, great men, that share of honest praise

A grateful nation to your merit pays: Verse is too mean your merit to display, And words too weak our praises to convey.

When first proud Britain raised her hostile hand With claims unjust to bind our native land, Transported armies, and her millions spent

To enforce the mandate that a tyrant sent; "Resist! resist!" was heard through every state, You heard the call, and feared your country's fate; Then rising fierce in arms, for war arrayed,

You taught to vanquish those who dared invade. Those British chiefs whom former wars had crowned With conquest--and in every clime renowned;

Who forced new realms to own their monarch's law, And whom even George beheld with secret awe-- Those mighty chiefs, compelled to fly or yield, Scarce dared to meet you on the embattled field;

To Boston's port you chased the trembling crew,

Quick, even from thence the British veterans flew--[Pg 82] Through wintry waves they fled, and thought each wave Their last, best safety from a foe so brave![46]

What men, like you, our warfare could command, And bring us safely to the promised land?--

Not swoln with pride,[47] with victory elate--

'Tis in misfortune you are doubly great:

When Howe victorious our weak armies chased, And, sure of conquest, laid Cesarea waste,

When prostrate, bleeding, at his feet she lay, And the proud victor tore her wreathes away, Each gallant chief[48] put forth his warlike hand And raised the drooping genius of the land, Repelled the foe, their choicest warriors slain, And drove them howling to their ships again. While others kindle into martial rage

Whom fierce ambition urges to engage,

An iron race, by angry heaven designed

To conquer first and then enslave mankind;

Here chiefs and heroes[49] more humane we see, They venture life, that others may be free.

O! may you live to hail that glorious day

When Britain homeward shall pursue her way-- That race subdued, who filled the world with slain And rode tyrannic o'er the subject main!--

46

What few presumed, you boldly have atchieved, A tyrant humbled, and a world relieved.

O Washington, who leadst this glorious train,[50] Still may the fates thy valued life maintain.--[Pg 83] Rome's boasted chiefs, who, to their own disgrace, Proved the worst scourges of the human race, Pierced by whose darts a thousand nations bled, Who captive princes at their chariots led;

Born to enslave, to ravage, and subdue-- Return to nothing when compared to you; Throughout the world your growing fame has spread, In every country are your virtues read;

Remotest India hears your deeds of fame, The hardy Scythian stammers at your name; The haughty Turk, now longing to be free, Neglects his Sultan to enquire of thee;

The barbarous Briton hails you to his shores, And calls him Rebel, whom his heart adores. Still may the heavens prolong your vital date, And still may conquest on your banners wait: Whether afar to ravaged lands you go,

Where wild Potowmac's rapid waters flow,

Or where Saluda laves the fertile plain

And, swoln by torrents, rushes to the main; Or if again to Hudson you repair

To smite the cruel foe that lingers there--

Revenge their cause, whose virtue was their crime, The exiled hosts from Carolina's clime.

Late from the world in quiet mayest thou rise

And, mourned by millions, reach your native skies-- With patriot kings and generous chiefs to shine, Whose virtues raised them to be deemed divine:

May Vasa[A] only equal honours claim,

Alike in merits--not the first in fame!

[A] Gustavus Vasa of Sweden, the deliverer of his country.--Freneau's note. In the earlier editions this read Louis. First changed for the edition of 1795.