University of Virginia Library

LINES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.

Written at Schenectady.

Come see what beauties o'er our fields are spread,
What sturdy herds our verdant pastures tread;
O'er our wide plains what stately cedars rise,
Whose cloud-top'd heads support the bending skies:
Here every grove with vocal music rings,
Here every breeze wafts health upon its wings.
Come see what sports delight our tawny swains,
Join their wild dance and hear their rustic strains:
For though untutor'd by the Latian Muse,
Convivial lays and homely verse they choose,
Yet nought can shock a vestal's purer ear,
And list'ning saints the harmless song might hear;
Rough are our manners; yet, must you confess,
That, flattering no one, we deceive the less.
As yet no cringing parasite from France
Has taught our sons to lie, or nymphs to dance;
No hungry wretch here looks about for prey,
Eager to seize, and practis'd to betray.
Though, as you pass along the crowd, you'll hear
A foreign tongue, ungrateful to the ear;
For sure the Dutch, rough, masculine and strong,
Boasts not the sweetness of our native song;
Yet while this hardy race you see and hear,
Expanding memory grasps no mean idea.
Think how their sires, industrious, firm and brave,
Extorted Belgium from the struggling wave;
How, when vast mounds the new gain'd land secur'd,
Proud cities rose where once a navy moor'd:
Think how their bands, all prodigal of blood;
At Freedom's call the tyrant's rage withstood;
Hispanian legions darken'd all the plain,
And Philip hurl'd the bolts of war in vain:
By Nassau led, and fired by Virtue's flame,
The conquering Belgæ reach'd the height of fame.
Intent on gain, the Dutchman walks demure;
Though nought he gives, in honesty secure
He pays his debts, and finds his income sure.
Here e'en the warmest passions move by rule;
Here friendship shivers, and e'en love is cool:
Where beauty fails, a jointure well supplies,
And dollars shine more bright than Stella's eyes.
Curs'd be his memory who first dar'd to join
With sacred love the dull terrestrial mine;
Who stripp'd the passion of its noblest charms,
And gave fair Venus to a Vulcan's arms.
Nor think, because no bard of tuneful tongue,
The Mohawk or our Hudson yet have sung,
That Roman Tiber, or Britannia's Thames,
Survey more beauties than our silver streams.
Swoln with the gifts of tributary snows,
From the cold North majestic Hudson flows
O'er many a trackless wild, yet views with pride
Three cities rising on his verdant side:
For here Albania's gothic towers are spread,
There infant Hudson rears her rival head;
Here, where the streams uniting greet the Sound,
Proud York appears with airy turrets crown'd.
Mark! from the west, how in romantic maze,
By groves and flowery lawns the Mohawk strays;
Gently in silent modesty she flows,
And scarce a breeze disturbs the sweet repose;
Not clearer waves by Hartford's ville are seen,
Nor tread her blooming nymphs a softer green;
Till where abrupt infuriate Cohoes roars,
Down the vast rock his thundering torrent pours,
Mad on himself the thunders roll again,
Shake the dark grove and deafen all the plain.