 | Poem addressed, by Philis (a young Affrican, of
surprising genius) to a gentleman of the navy, with his reply |  |
473
Poetical Essays, for December, 1774.
For the Royal American Magazine.
By particular request we insert the following Poem addressed, by
Philis, (a young Affrican, of surprising genius) to a gentleman of
the navy, with his reply.
By this single instance may be seen, the importance of education.—
Uncultivated nature is much the same in every part of the globe.
It is probable Europe and Affrica would be alike savage or polite
in the same circumstances; though, it may be questioned, whether
men who have no artificial wants, are capable of becoming so
ferocious as those, who, by faring sumptuously every day, are reduced
to a habit of thinking it necessary to their happiness, to
plunder the whole human race.
CELESTIAL muse! for sweetness
fam'd inspire
My wondrous theme with true poetic fire,
Rochfort, for thee! And Greaves deserve my lays
The sacred tribute of ingenuous praise.
For here, true merit shuns the glare of light,
She loves oblivion, and evades the sight.
At sight of her, see dawning genius rise
And stretch her pinions to her native skies.
Paris, for Helen's bright resistless charms,
Made Illion bleed and set the world in arms.
Had you appear'd on the Achaian shore
Troy now had stood, and Helon charm'd no more.
The Phrygian hero had resign'd the dame
For purer joys in friendship's sacred flame,
The noblest gift, and of immortal kind,
That brightens, dignifies the manly mind.
Calliope, half gracious to my prayer,
Grants but the half and scatters half in air.
Far, in the space where ancient Albion keeps
Amidst the roarings of the sacred deeps,
Where willing forests leave their native plain,
Descend, and instant, plough the wat'ry main.
Strange to relate! with canvas wings they speed
To distant worlds; of distant worlds the dread.
The trembling natives of the peaceful plain,
Astonish'd view the heroes of the main,
Wond'ring to see two chiefs of matchless grace,
Of generous bosom, and Ingenuous face,
From ocean sprung, like ocean foes to rest,
The thirst of glory burns each
youthful breast.
In virtue's cause, the muse implores for grace,
These blooming sons of Neptune's royal race;
Cerulæn youths! your joint assent declare,
Virtue to rev'rence, more than mortal fair,
A crown of glory, which the muse will twine,
Immortal trophy! Rochfort shall be thine!
Thine too OGreaves! for virtue's offspring share,
Celestial friendship and the muse's care.
Yours is the song, and your's the honest praise,
Lo! Rochfort smiles, and Greaves approves my lays.
Boston, October 30th. 1774.
My wondrous theme with true poetic fire,
Rochfort, for thee! And Greaves deserve my lays
The sacred tribute of ingenuous praise.
For here, true merit shuns the glare of light,
She loves oblivion, and evades the sight.
At sight of her, see dawning genius rise
And stretch her pinions to her native skies.
Paris, for Helen's bright resistless charms,
Made Illion bleed and set the world in arms.
Had you appear'd on the Achaian shore
Troy now had stood, and Helon charm'd no more.
The Phrygian hero had resign'd the dame
For purer joys in friendship's sacred flame,
The noblest gift, and of immortal kind,
That brightens, dignifies the manly mind.
Calliope, half gracious to my prayer,
Grants but the half and scatters half in air.
Far, in the space where ancient Albion keeps
Amidst the roarings of the sacred deeps,
Where willing forests leave their native plain,
Descend, and instant, plough the wat'ry main.
Strange to relate! with canvas wings they speed
To distant worlds; of distant worlds the dread.
The trembling natives of the peaceful plain,
Astonish'd view the heroes of the main,
Wond'ring to see two chiefs of matchless grace,
Of generous bosom, and Ingenuous face,
From ocean sprung, like ocean foes to rest,
474
In virtue's cause, the muse implores for grace,
These blooming sons of Neptune's royal race;
Cerulæn youths! your joint assent declare,
Virtue to rev'rence, more than mortal fair,
A crown of glory, which the muse will twine,
Immortal trophy! Rochfort shall be thine!
Thine too OGreaves! for virtue's offspring share,
Celestial friendship and the muse's care.
Yours is the song, and your's the honest praise,
Lo! Rochfort smiles, and Greaves approves my lays.
The ANSWER.
CELESTIAL muse! sulimest
of the nine,
Assist my song, and dictate every line:
Inspire me once, nor with imperfect lays,
To sing this great, this lovely virgins praise:
But yet, alas! what tribute can I bring,
WH—TL—Y but smiles, whilst I thus faintly sing,
Behold with reverence, and with joy adore;
The lovely daughter of the Affric shore,
Where every grace, and every virtue join,
That kindles friendship and makes love divine;
In hue as diff'rent as in souls above;
The rest of mortals who in vain have strove,
Th' immortal wreathe, the muse's gift to share,
Which heav'n reserv'd for this angelic fair.
Blest be the guilded shore, the happy land,
Where spring and autumn gently hand in hand;
O'er thady forests that scarce know a bound,
In vivid blaze alternately dance round:
Where cancers torrid heat the soul inspires;
With strains divine and true poetic fires;
(Far from the reach of Hudson's chilly bay)
Where cheerful phœbus makes all nature gay;
Where sweet refreshing breezes gently fan;
The flow'ry path, the ever verdent lawn,
The artless grottos, and the soft retreats;
"At once the lover and thee muse's seats."
Where nature taught, (tho' strange it is to tell,)
Her flowing pencil Europe to excell.
Britaxia's glory long hath fill'd the skies;
Whilst other nations, tho' with envious eyes,
Have view'd her growing greatness, and the rules;
That's long been taught in her untainted schools:
Where great Sir Isaac! whose immortal name;
Still shines the brightest on the seat of fame;
By ways and methods never known before:
The sacred depth of nature did explore:
And like a God, on philosophic wings;
Rode with the planets thro' their
circling rings:
Surveying nature with a curious [eye,
And viewing other systems in the sky.
Where nature's bard with true [poetic lays,
The pristine state of paradise displays,
And with a genius that's but ve[ry rare
Describes the first the only happy pair
That in terrestial mansions ever [reign'd,
View'd happiness now lost, and now regain'd,
Unravel'd all the battles of the [Gods,
And view'd old night below the antipodes.
On his imperious throne, with awful sway,
Commanding regions yet unknown to day,
Or where those lofty bards have dwelt so long,
That ravish'd Europe with their heavenly song,
But now this blessful clime, this happy land,
That all the neighbouring nations did command;
Whose royal navy neptunes waves did sweep,
Reign'd Prince alone, and sov'reign of the deep:
No more can boast, but of the power to kill,
By force of arms, or diabolic skill.
For softer strains we quickly must repair
To Wheatly's song, for Wheatly is the fair;
That has the art, which art could ne'er acquire:
To dress each sentence with seraphie fire.
Her wondrous virtues I could ne'er express!
To paint her charms, would only make them less.
December 2d. 1774.
Assist my song, and dictate every line:
Inspire me once, nor with imperfect lays,
To sing this great, this lovely virgins praise:
But yet, alas! what tribute can I bring,
WH—TL—Y but smiles, whilst I thus faintly sing,
Behold with reverence, and with joy adore;
The lovely daughter of the Affric shore,
Where every grace, and every virtue join,
That kindles friendship and makes love divine;
In hue as diff'rent as in souls above;
The rest of mortals who in vain have strove,
Th' immortal wreathe, the muse's gift to share,
Which heav'n reserv'd for this angelic fair.
Blest be the guilded shore, the happy land,
Where spring and autumn gently hand in hand;
O'er thady forests that scarce know a bound,
In vivid blaze alternately dance round:
Where cancers torrid heat the soul inspires;
With strains divine and true poetic fires;
(Far from the reach of Hudson's chilly bay)
Where cheerful phœbus makes all nature gay;
Where sweet refreshing breezes gently fan;
The flow'ry path, the ever verdent lawn,
The artless grottos, and the soft retreats;
"At once the lover and thee muse's seats."
Where nature taught, (tho' strange it is to tell,)
Her flowing pencil Europe to excell.
Britaxia's glory long hath fill'd the skies;
Whilst other nations, tho' with envious eyes,
Have view'd her growing greatness, and the rules;
That's long been taught in her untainted schools:
Where great Sir Isaac! whose immortal name;
Still shines the brightest on the seat of fame;
By ways and methods never known before:
The sacred depth of nature did explore:
And like a God, on philosophic wings;
475
Surveying nature with a curious [eye,
And viewing other systems in the sky.
Where nature's bard with true [poetic lays,
The pristine state of paradise displays,
And with a genius that's but ve[ry rare
Describes the first the only happy pair
That in terrestial mansions ever [reign'd,
View'd happiness now lost, and now regain'd,
Unravel'd all the battles of the [Gods,
And view'd old night below the antipodes.
On his imperious throne, with awful sway,
Commanding regions yet unknown to day,
Or where those lofty bards have dwelt so long,
That ravish'd Europe with their heavenly song,
But now this blessful clime, this happy land,
That all the neighbouring nations did command;
Whose royal navy neptunes waves did sweep,
Reign'd Prince alone, and sov'reign of the deep:
No more can boast, but of the power to kill,
By force of arms, or diabolic skill.
For softer strains we quickly must repair
To Wheatly's song, for Wheatly is the fair;
That has the art, which art could ne'er acquire:
To dress each sentence with seraphie fire.
Her wondrous virtues I could ne'er express!
To paint her charms, would only make them less.
WINTER.
A pastoral Ballad.
WHEN the trees are all bear,
not a leaf to be seen,
And the meadows their beauty have lost;
When nature's ditrob'd of her mantle of green,
And the streams are fast bound with the frost.
While the peasant inactive stands shivering with cold
As bleak the winds northerly blow;
And the innocent flocks run for ease to the fold
With their fleeces besprinkled with snow.
In the yard, where the cattle are fodder'd with straw,
And they send forth their breath like a stream:
And the neat-looking dairy maid sees she must thaw
Flakes of ice that she finds in the cream.
When the lads and the lasses for company join'd,
In a croud round the embers are met;
Talk of fairies and witches that ride on the wind,
And of ghosts, till they're all in a sweat.
Heav'n grant in this season it may be my lot,
With a nymph whom I love and admire;
While the icicles hang from the eves of my cot,
I may hither in safety retire?
Where in neatness and quiet and free from surprize
We may live and no hardships endure;
Nor feel any turbulent passions arise,
But such as each other may cure.
And the meadows their beauty have lost;
When nature's ditrob'd of her mantle of green,
And the streams are fast bound with the frost.
While the peasant inactive stands shivering with cold
As bleak the winds northerly blow;
And the innocent flocks run for ease to the fold
With their fleeces besprinkled with snow.
In the yard, where the cattle are fodder'd with straw,
And they send forth their breath like a stream:
And the neat-looking dairy maid sees she must thaw
Flakes of ice that she finds in the cream.
When the lads and the lasses for company join'd,
In a croud round the embers are met;
Talk of fairies and witches that ride on the wind,
And of ghosts, till they're all in a sweat.
Heav'n grant in this season it may be my lot,
With a nymph whom I love and admire;
While the icicles hang from the eves of my cot,
I may hither in safety retire?
Where in neatness and quiet and free from surprize
We may live and no hardships endure;
Nor feel any turbulent passions arise,
But such as each other may cure.
| Poem addressed, by Philis (a young Affrican, of
surprising genius) to a gentleman of the navy, with his reply | |