 | The Last Poems of Philip Freneau |  |
28
Jersey City
On this black height is seen a wide display
Of rivers, towns and mountains far away;
A city vast and splendid to the view,
Another London, with its follies too.
Of rivers, towns and mountains far away;
A city vast and splendid to the view,
Another London, with its follies too.
London, Britannia's pride, that powerful isle,
The land of heroes, that prolific soil,
Where half its harvests from its filth have sprung,
And half its soil is formed of men they hung;
—London, whose commerce through the world extends,
London, who ship-loads of her NOVELS sends;
London, sweet town, where scribbling is a trade.
From the vain Countess to her chamber-maid;
London, a tyrant in the times by-past,
Will fix our manners and our fate at last.
The land of heroes, that prolific soil,
Where half its harvests from its filth have sprung,
And half its soil is formed of men they hung;
—London, whose commerce through the world extends,
London, who ship-loads of her NOVELS sends;
London, sweet town, where scribbling is a trade.
From the vain Countess to her chamber-maid;
London, a tyrant in the times by-past,
Will fix our manners and our fate at last.
While here I pause or make some brief delay,
Why should I cancel what I mean to say?
Amidst these tombs I pen my cheerless strain,
A City, rising on the adjacent plain;
Demands a sigh!—in truth, so slow to rise,
To rival York would ask ten centuries.
Why should I cancel what I mean to say?
Amidst these tombs I pen my cheerless strain,
A City, rising on the adjacent plain;
Demands a sigh!—in truth, so slow to rise,
To rival York would ask ten centuries.
Howe'er that be, while here I take my stand
Between two rivers that confine the land,
In one short hour before I migrate hence,
I write my thoughts, I hope without offence;
I treat the church, the tombs, with due respect,
The priest is absent, and I write unchecked.
Between two rivers that confine the land,
In one short hour before I migrate hence,
I write my thoughts, I hope without offence;
I treat the church, the tombs, with due respect,
The priest is absent, and I write unchecked.
If some are wrath, and deem me too severe,
They must indulge their wrath, the case is clear;
One truth stands firm, till truth itself shall cease,
All nature's discord makes all nature's peace.
They must indulge their wrath, the case is clear;
One truth stands firm, till truth itself shall cease,
All nature's discord makes all nature's peace.
29
All here is nature, beauty, some have said,
Whether you court the sun, or woo the shade.
Near yon thronged inn the market-folks we see,
Patterns of perfect beauty all agree;
Whether the flush of blooming beauty glows
On Margery's cheek or Knickerbocker's nose,
Still all is beauty, in a hundred ways,
Respect demanding, or commanding praise—
For Plato wrote, and Tully did opine,
Nature is handsome when not quite divine.
Whether you court the sun, or woo the shade.
Near yon thronged inn the market-folks we see,
Patterns of perfect beauty all agree;
Whether the flush of blooming beauty glows
On Margery's cheek or Knickerbocker's nose,
Still all is beauty, in a hundred ways,
Respect demanding, or commanding praise—
For Plato wrote, and Tully did opine,
Nature is handsome when not quite divine.
Dear infant city!—how can you but fall,
When proud Manhattan claims the Hudson, all?
Where Neptune drives his billows to your strand,
So far her charters and her claims extend.
When proud Manhattan claims the Hudson, all?
Where Neptune drives his billows to your strand,
So far her charters and her claims extend.
Her's were your prospect, but not her's your fate,
To rise, unrivalled, in commercial weight.
This jealous sister dreads the approaching sail,
Your square-rigg'd vessels, and becalms the gale.
With selfish eye her sons of trade—and LUCK
Claim Holdfast for their favourite dog—my duck;
Look when they will to Jersey, and her town,
The hourly watch-word stuns me—KEEP HER DOWN.
To rise, unrivalled, in commercial weight.
This jealous sister dreads the approaching sail,
Your square-rigg'd vessels, and becalms the gale.
With selfish eye her sons of trade—and LUCK
Claim Holdfast for their favourite dog—my duck;
Look when they will to Jersey, and her town,
The hourly watch-word stuns me—KEEP HER DOWN.
To these old tombs once more I turn my view;
Here slumber some, who once were selfish too,
Here slumber some, whose God was wealth and gold,
Who grasped at worlds, and planets would have sold,
Whose livers swelled to see a neighbor thrive,
And to another's welfare scarce alive.
Here slumber some, who once were selfish too,
Here slumber some, whose God was wealth and gold,
Who grasped at worlds, and planets would have sold,
Whose livers swelled to see a neighbor thrive,
And to another's welfare scarce alive.
Where are they now! and where the wealth they prized?
All scattered, vanished, spent, monopolized;
To thankless heirs, perhaps, has found its way,
To heirs as selfish, and as base as they.
All scattered, vanished, spent, monopolized;
30
To heirs as selfish, and as base as they.
Learn hence, ye envious, to retract your plans.
And be content with just, but equal gains.
The Hudson should for Jersey City flow,
And aid her commerce, as it prospered you.
And be content with just, but equal gains.
The Hudson should for Jersey City flow,
And aid her commerce, as it prospered you.
| The Last Poems of Philip Freneau | |