University of Virginia Library

no previous section The posthumous works of Ann Eliza Bleecker, in prose and verse
no next section
185

POETICS.

JOSEPH.

With many children was the Patriarch blest,
Yet Joseph he preferr'd before the rest:
To tend his flock was all the youth's employ
To serve his God and Sire his only joy:
Jacob of his lov'd consort now depriv'd,
Beheld her graces in the son reviv'd;
And all the love he had to Rachel gone,
Was by degrees transferr'd unto her son.
A silken vest, that cast a various shade,
He fondly to the boy a present made:
Here vivid scarlet strove with lively green,
The purple, blended with the white, was seen,
And azure spots were interspers'd between.
This gaudy robe (the basis of his woe,
The source from which his future sorrows flow)
Kindled his elder brethren's wakeful pride:
(When envy mounts, affection will subside)
Their dawning hate in vain to hide they strove,
Each look too plain confess'd expiring love.
186

The sun obliquely shot his humid beams,
When Joseph wak'd, one morn, and told his dreams:
‘My brethren, we, methought, were on a plain,
‘And binding into sheaves the yellow grain;
‘When mine arose; your's form'd a circle round,
‘And reverently bow'd low to the ground.’
And this each face the innate rage express'd:
And Joseph thus, indignant, they address'd.
‘Shalt thou indeed a sov'reign to us be?
‘And shall we fall as suppliants on the knee?
‘Vain boy! renounce those hopes—hence to the field
‘A shepherd's crook, not sceptre, shalt thou wield.’
Again, when slumbers stole upon his eyes,
And active Fancy bade the vision rise,
To him th' eleven stars, the orb of day,
And crystal moon respectful homage pay.
This on the morn the wond'ring youth disclos'd
When Jacob the prediction thus oppos'd:
‘Shall I, thine aged sire, whose silver hairs
‘And arms unnerv'd proclaim my length of years,
‘Prostrate on earth myself thy vassel own?
‘And shall thy mother bow before her son?
187

‘Ambition, Joseph, has thy heart possess'd,
‘And dreams illusive rise from such a guest.’
But yet he wonder'd what might be design'd,
And the presaging visions treasur'd in his mind.
It chanc'd his elder sons at early dawn
Led their fair flocks to Dothen's verdant lawn:
There, while the kids and lambs crop off the flow'rs,
In close converse they pass th' eloping hours:
Beneath a cedar's boughs, whose awful shade
Extended o'er the plain, was Levi laid:
What rais'd the tears that trembled in his eyes?
Issacher ask'd; and Levi thus replies:
‘Jacob was once impartial in his love;
‘To please us all, and we to please him strove.
‘Have we not toil'd beneath the burning ray
‘Of yon bright orb, who rising we survey;
‘And when the lamp of night illumes the skies,
‘When dews descend and noxious mists arise,
‘In silent vales a careful watch we keep,
‘And from the rav'ning wolves protect the sheep?
‘Is this the kind return for all our care?—
‘We ask but equally his love to share;
‘And that denied, to aggravate the smart,
‘A simpering boy engrosses all his heart:
188

‘What can entitle him to such a claim,
‘Domestic labours, or a martial fame?
‘In Mamre's groves his hours slide soft away,
‘In rest at night, in indolence all day:
‘With lies of us he fills the cred'lous ear,
‘Too horrid to repeat, or you to hear.
‘For this a superb robe adorns his limbs,
‘And partial heav'n for this in mystic dreams
‘Presages a reward. But words are vain.’
Here Levi ceas'd, and Issacher began.
‘Ah! 'tis too plain, too obvious to the sight,
‘That Joseph is our parent's chief delight,
‘Although a base usurper of our right:
‘You see ambition rising in his soul;
‘And when his years mature to manhood roll,
‘Elated with the hopes of sway, he'll try
‘On us, my friends, his dreams to verify.’
He ended: but his cheeks with anger glows:
When bloody Simeon from the ground arose.
Awhile he paus'd; at length his lips impart
The black design corroding at his heart.
‘Brethren, this war of words and coward rage
‘Suits not our youth, but meets impotent age;
‘Let one decisive stroke remove our fears,
‘Obstruct the fates, and calm intestine wars.’
189

Reuben at Simeon glanc'd a frown, and spoke:
‘The sentence yet in embrio I revoke:
‘The Sechemites, (who, murder'd on the plain,
‘Sad monuments of cruelty remain)
‘Have they to death inur'd your gloomy eyes,
‘That for a childish dream your brother dies?
‘Would you in guiltless blood your jav'lins stain,
‘And Nature's law by such a deed profane?
‘My soul shrinks at the thought: loud sounding fame
‘Would through the world the fratricide proclaim.
‘Brethren, regard his youth—our father's age;
‘One fatal stroke destroys both child and sage:
‘Congenial souls: the union of the heart
‘Death can't divide, nor living can we part.
‘Ah! tell me, Simeon, is the action brave
‘To sink a sage and infant in the grave?
‘Mistaken valor, and inhuman deed,
‘For one man's fault to make a nation bleed!
‘Much more inhuman this: the son conspires
‘A harmless brother's death, and aged sire's.
‘Think not with their last breath your fears are fled;
‘God's vengeance still pursues the guilty head!
190

‘And why abridge his days? Ah! brethren, know,
By short'ning his, you fill your own with woe.’
He ended unapplauded, and beheld
The object of their contest on the field,
Far as the eye could reach: his glossy hair
Curl'd on his neck; his robe wav'd light in air,
Clasp'd by a plate of gold, that as he run
In brightness seem'd to emulate the sun.
Hate, stifled by reproof, flam'd in each eye,
When at a distance they perceiv'd the boy;
In ev'ry look black discontent was spread,
And Judah, pale with envy, rose and said:
‘Vain sophistry! how do our joys subside,
‘While that prophetic dreamer swells with pride?
‘No; let him die: his vest we'll stain with blood,
‘And tell his sire we found it in the wood:
‘Some beast, I'll cry, and deep affliction feign,
‘Oh Jacob, has thy son, thy Joseph slain!
‘If Reuben new objections here create,
‘Then let him bear our just, immortal hate.’
When Reuben found his death was now decreed,
Resolv'd to save the youth, or with him bleed,
191

He loud exclaim'd—‘At least with this comply,
‘(Since by our hand the innocent must die)
‘I am his brother, give me not the pain
‘To see his blood gush from the purple vein,
‘To see his soul part from his quiv'ring lip,
‘And hear the groan which ushers in his sleep.
‘Where yonder cedars raise their lofty heads,
‘And round the rocky place a horror spreads,
‘There is a pit, to water long unknown,
‘Dark its access, with brambles overgrown:
‘Here be the child immur'd: the sides are steep,
‘Of stone cemented, and profoundly deep;
‘A certain and concealed death his fate;
‘Guiltless of blood we gratify our hate.’
He hesitated—by real sorrow mov'd,
While his proposal all the swains approv'd.
But Reuben hop'd, when sleep had clos'd their eyes,
With the lov'd youth his father to surprise;
Then lead him where he might securely wait
The period when he should survive their hate.
Joseph, soon as his brethren he descries,
A placid sweetness triumph'd in his eyes,
Joy ting'd his blooming cheeks with deeper red,
He innocently smil'd, advanc'd, and said:
192

‘To Sechem's vale our fire bade me repair,
‘If you were well, solicitous to hear:
‘I rov'd o'er meads enamel'd with gay flow'rs,
‘I rang'd the forests and explor'd the bow'rs;
‘At length my erring steps a stranger led
‘To Dothen, where he said your flocks were fed
‘But why this gen'ral gloom on ev'ry face,
‘This stupid grief which saddens all the place?
‘O tell me! quick dispel each rising fear,
‘Or let me drop the sympathetic tear.’—
He pleads, impatient for the truth to gain;
But dazzling virtue aw'd the silent train.
The conscious blood revolting from each cheek,
Rush to the guilty heart and refuge seek:
Now vice prepares the formidable blow,
Yet shrinks, encountering a defenceless foe:
She summons all her forces to her aid,
And big with death, now hovers o'er his head.
Rapid as lightnings thro' the æther glance,
So swift they to th' astonish'd youth advance;
Trembling with rage they flew; they seiz'd his hair,
And bade him instantly for death prepare.
Aghast he gaz'd; he stiffen'd with surprise,
His blood congeals, he scarce believes his eyes;
A sudden horror thrills thro' ev'ry vein,
He casts an anxious look back o'er the plain;
193

He sees no hope; then sinking on his knees,
He thus essay'd their anger to appease:
‘What have I done, my brethren, that your rage
‘United should against a child engage?
‘Alas! what heavy crime demands my death?’
Here rising tears suppress'd his lab'ring breath;
These when discharg'd, again the shepherd pleads:—
‘Is there no friend, not one who intercedes?
‘With guiltless blood pollute not Nature's laws.
‘Tell me my fault, and let me plead my cause:
‘If innocent, acquit; if guilty found,
‘In public then let justice give the wound.’
He ceas'd to speak, and their decision wait;
When Nepthali exclaim'd, ‘Our will is fate.’
Then with a cord his trembling hands they bound,
And rais'd him pale and fainting from the ground:
His terror power of utterance denies,
But yet he weeps and lifts his speaking eyes.
They lead him to the grove, whose solemn shade
The wind and solar ray could scarce pervade;
The dark abyss they found, and op'd a way
By which descending Joseph lest the day:
194

The hollow sides re-echo back his moan,
And distant rocks reflect the doubled groan;
In deeper notes his plaintive cries return'd,
While low excluded from the light he mourn'd.
Th' inhuman rustics soon depart the place
Where conscious Vice now flush'd each guilty face:
The sun shone hot; impervious to his ray
A grove of palms the fainting swains survey:
Beneath their shade a silver current stole,
Whose lucid waves o'er mossy carpets roll.
Here they repair, and seated on the ground,
With roseate wine the shining goblet crown'd;
The viands on the velvet grass they spread,
The grape luxuriant and the milk-white bread;
When thoughtful Reuben, sighing, rose and said:
‘While you the festive banquet here prepare,
‘To seek the straying lambs shall be my care.’
Scarce was he gone, when from a neighbouring vale
The fragrant smells of spicery exhale;
The aromatic loads by camels borne,
From Geliad sent, to Egypt now return:
These were proceeded by a num'rous train
Of trafficers, who from fair Midian came.
195

Th' inviting shade, where cool the shepherds lay,
Allur'd the merchants from their tiresome way;
They join the swains, and press the verdant ground,
While the replenish'd goblet passes round.
But pale remorse, from cool reflection sprung,
On half-repenting Judah's brow was hung;
His brother's groans reverb'rate on his ear,
But yet his envy Joseph's merits fear.
While these contending passions rend his breast
Apart the list'ning shepherds he address'd:
‘My friends, the eldest curse of righteous heaven
‘Was to the murderer of a brother given;
‘Tho' Joseph's crimes would justify his death,
‘We can be just, and yet prolong his breath.
‘Let us redeem the victim from the grave,
‘And send him to Egyptia as a slave;
‘From those far plains he never can return,
‘But must repent his faults, submit and mourn:
‘No black reflection then will give us pain,
‘And useful gold, my brethren, too we gain.’
The mercenary shepherds all agree,
And set him from his gloomy prison free:
196

He smites his breast, wet with incessant tears;
His languid eyes to heav'n he pleading rears,
Whose silent eloquence reveal'd his fears.
But when he saw the strangers in the shade,
Diffusive hope thro' all his features spread;
He wip'd away the pendant tears, and smil'd,
When by the hand proud Ashur took the child;
His sordid soul from all soft ties estrang'd,
Joseph, without remorse, for gold exchang'd:
The youth's simplicity and early bloom,
Each stranger with attractive force o'ercome:
They paid the shining ore, and journey'd on,
For in the west sunk the declining sun.
Meanwhile, o'er distant hills, and moss-grown rocks,
The pensive swain pursues the timid flocks.
Now late returning, and o'ercome with heat,
Secures his charge and seeks a cool retreat;
Beneath a cedar's length'ned shadow laid,
The vast expanse, admiring, he survey'd,
In vivid tints, by setting sol array'd
Magnificently gay. Here streak'd with gold,
The purple clouds their borrow'd paints unfold;
The blushing west with deep carnation glows,
And o'er the skies a bright reflection throws.
—Now imperceptibly on closing flow'rs
The silent dews descend in silver show'rs,
197

Th' appearing stars exert a feeble light,
And Reuben welcomes the approach of night:
He rises and explores the dismal shade,
And stooping o'er the cavern's verge he said:
‘Joseph! my brother Joseph! I am come,
‘Impatient to reverse thy cruel doom;
‘Forgive thy Reuben's part in this black deed,
‘'Tis stratagem alone thy life has freed:
‘Oh Joseph speak! surely thou dost survive:
‘Oh speak my brother, if thou art alive!
‘Alas! no voice but echo's hollow sound,
‘No voice but mine remurmers o'er the ground!
‘Where shall I flee, to what dark distant shore,
‘To shun reproach? for Joseph is no more.
‘Why did my lips (consenting to his death)
‘When they pronounc'd his doom, not lose their breath?’—
Again he calls, and raging in despair,
From his swoln breast the folding garment tears.
Now wild with grief, and wand ring thro' the gloom,
He met the Hebrews all returning home:
A kid they'd kill'd, and in the sanguine gore
Had dipt the robe which blameless Joseph wore.
Soon they appear'd on Mamre's peaceful plain,
And enter'd Israel's tent, a guilty train;
198

Each feign'd to be with anxious care opprest,
And Simeon, weeping, thus his fire addrest:
‘Oh canst thou recollect this bloody vest!’
Old Jacob view'd it with a pausing eye;
He trembled, groan'd, and scarce could make reply;
An universal horror seiz'd his frame,
At length burst forth th'ungovernable flame:
‘It is my son's! (he cry'd) my son is slain!
‘Curst be the hour that rent him from my side!
‘What baneful planet did my actions guide?
‘Come, death, convey me to the peaceful urn;
‘Joseph is dead! why should I live to mourn?’
In vain they try to calm his swelling grief;
He cherish'd sorrow, and refus'd relief.

On Mrs. Johanna Lupton.

Her soul, unsetter'd from the bands of clay,
With swift-wing'd haste to heaven takes its way;
She tow'rs the æriel space on wings divine,
While weeping friends surround the bloodless shrine:
199

The soften'd heart there breathes a tender sigh,
And grief sits pensive in each moisten'd eye:
Suppress the rising tear, and with her sing,
‘Death, where's thy vict'ry? Grave, where is thy sting?’
Sing how with God she rests in endless day,
All tears of sorrow ever wip'd away;
‘Sing how by tortures heav'n her faith has try'd;
‘The saint endur'd it, tho' the woman dy'd!’
Ah, nature will prevail! 'tis all in vain:
Say, sacred muse, what loss do we sustain?
She wip'd the eye of grief—it ceas'd to flow;
Her pitying heart still felt another's woe;
Indigent virtue shar'd her earthly store;
She call'd herself God's steward for the poor:
A duteous child; a faithful, loving wife;
Serene in death, as tranquil was her life:
A pious mother—mother now no more;
Her soft solicitude and cares are o'er:
Sister and friend, each tender name in one.
And is she gone? but heav'n's great will be done!
Like Noah's dove, the wand'rer found no rest,
Till in his ark her Saviour took the guest.
Oh may we meet her on the eternal shore,
Where death shall never separate us more!
200

To Mr. L*****.

The sun that gilds the western sky
And makes the orient red,
Whose gladsome rays delight the eye
And cheer the lonely shade,
Withdraws his vegetative heat,
To southern climes retires;
While absent, we supply his seat
With gross, material fires.
'Tis new-year's morn; each rustic swain
Ambrosial cordials take;
And round the fire the festive train
A semi-circle make:
While clouds ascend, of sable smoke,
From pipes of ebon hue,
With inharmonick song and joke
They pass the morning through.
You tell me this is solitude,
This Contemplation's seat;
Ah no! the most impervious wood
Affords me no retreat.
201

But let me recollect: 'tis said,
When Orpheus tun'd his lyre
The Fauns and Satyrs left the shade,
Warm'd by celestial fire.
His vocal lays and lyra made
Inanimated marble weep;
Swift-footed Time then paus'd, 'tis said,
And sea-born monsters left the deep:
Impatient trees, to hear his strain
Rent from the ground their roots?—
Such is my fate, as his was then,
Surrounded here—by brutes.

To the same

Dear Sir, when late in town you chose
To correspond no more in prose,
My viscious muse—(but 'tis in vain
Of her abuses to complain)—
Neglects to aid, as I expected,
And so I must be self-directed.
You've broke th' agreement, Sir, I find;
(Excuse me, I must speak my mind)
It seems, in your poetic fit,
202

You mind not jingling, when there's wit;
And so to write like Donne you chose,
Whose prose was verse, and verse was prose:
From common tracts of rhyming stray,
And versify another way.
Indeed it suits, I must aver,
A genius to be singular.
On F---r kept in durance vile,
Did once more erring fortune smile:
Again he would extend his ray,
And shine his riches all away.
Birch said, (and what he said I sing)
‘A shilling is a serious thing;’
But like Icarus, F---r springs,
Where suns dissolv'd his waxen wings:
No more the wings his weight sustain,
He plunges headlong in the main:
The shades of death steal o'er his eyes;
And to black Styx the spirit flies.
Life is a grand vicissitude
Of pain and health, of ill and good:
Your goose now mourns a murder'd mate,
(Attend while I the fact relate)
He chanc'd upon a cloudless morn,
To wander in our neighbour's corn;
Perhaps he thought all lands were free,
And none had private property;
203

Or sure he ne'er had trod the plain,
And pick'd, like Eve, forbidden grain:
Careless he fed, in graceful ease
And sweet simplicity of geese.
Ill-fated bird! he there was kill'd
By man, the tyrant of the field.
His widow's wing, Oh dire relation!
Next underwent sad amputation:
Weep not, dear Sir, at this abuse;
She bears it like a patient goose:
I fear the widow is a prude,
Or matters sooner would conclude;
Or else you have a coward heart,
And fear to act the suitor's part.
Of all the things beneath the sun, you know,
Faint heart fair lady never won. Adieu.

To the same.

From plains and peaceful cots I send
The humble wishes of a friend:
May love still spread his silken wing,
And life to you be ever spring:
May virtue guide you with her clue,
Life's mazy path to wander thro';
And may your offspring the blest tract pursue:
204

On you may Heav'n benignly smile,
And inward peace external cares beguile;
Long may you live supremely blest,
Then die, and be a Saviour's guest.
The wish is o'er, permit me to descend
To the familiar converse of a friend.
Well, you've done right to get a wife,
For change the comfort is of life;
Besides, I've read in ancient story,
A virtuous wife's a crown of glory:
And yet 'tis true that some adorn
Their husband's brows with crown of horn:
The wisest man on earth we find
Was partial to the female kind,
Till he was trick'd a thousand ways,
(But men are wiser now-a-days)
Which made the honest Jew exclaim,
They were all vanities, and vain:
His father, you remember David,
Who tore Saul's skirt, and ran away with't,
He also had, (tho' lov'd of God)
Plurality of wives allow'd:
But since polygamy's abolish'd,
The wives are chaste, the husbands polish'd
Since with plagiary you've tax'd me,
And never since for pardon ask'd me,
205

To prove my false accuser guilty,
Repeat his borrow'd lines I will t'ye:
“No goose that swims, but soon or late
“Will find some gander for a mate.”
You'll find this couplet, I'll engage,
In Wife of Bath, the hundredth page,
Volume the second,—works of Pope—
Brother, you're now convinc'd, I hope.
However, what you prophesied
About the goose, is verified;
She's slipt her neck in marriage noose,
And owns a sov'reign Lord, and goose.
Adieu, Mon Cher Ami; the Muse
Begs you her freedom will excuse.

To the same.

Dear brother, to these happy shades repair,
And leave, Oh leave the city's noxious air:
I'll try description, friend—methinks I see
'Twill influence your curiosity.
Before our door a meadow flies the eye,
Circled by hills, whose summits croud the sky;
The silver lily there exalts her head,
And op'ning roses balmy odours spread,
While golden tulips flame beneath the shade.
206

In short, not Iris with her painted bow,
Nor varied tints an evening fun can show,
Can the gay colours of the flow'rs exceed,
Whose glowing leaves diversify this mead:
And when the blooms of Flora disappear,
The weighty fruits adorn the satiate year:
Here vivid cherries bloom in scarlet pride,
And purple plums blush by the cherries side;
The sable berries bend the pliant vines,
And smiling apples glow in crimson rinds;
Ceres well pleas'd, beholds the furrow'd plain,
And show'rs her blessings on th' industrious swain;
Plenty sits laughing in each humble cot;
None wish for that which heaven gives them not,
But sweet Contentment still with sober charms,
Encircles us within her blissful arms;
Birds unmolested chaunt their early notes,
And on the dewy spray expand their throats;
Before the eastern skies are streak'd with light,
Or from the arch of Heaven retreats the night,
The musical inhabitants of air,
To praise their Maker, tuneful lays prepare.
Here by a spring, whose glassy surface moves
At ev'ry kiss from Zephyr of the groves,
While passing clouds look brighter in the stream,
Your poet sits and paints the rural scene.
207

To Mr. Bleecker.

Yes, I invok'd the Muses' aid
To help me write, for 'tis their trade;
But only think, ungrateful Muses,
They sent dame Iris with excuses,
They'd other business for to follow,
Beg'd I'd apply to God Apollo.
The God said, as heav'n's charioteer,
He had no time to mind us here;
Said if we rac'd round earth like Phœbus
One day, it sadly would fatigue us;
Yet we expect, when tir'd at night,
He'd stay from bed to help us write:
Nor need we ask his sister Phœbe,
For turning round had made her giddy;
Her inspiration would confuse us,
So counsell'd us to coax the Muses.
Quite disappointed at this lecture
I left his worship sipping nectar;
But, pettishly as I left his dome,
It chanc'd I met the Goddess Wisdom.
No wonder she is wife, 'tis said
She was the product of Jove's head.
208

‘Bright Queen,’ said I, ‘in these abodes
‘I beg'd a favour of the Gods:
‘They wish'd the poets at the devil,
‘And the nine ladies were uncivil:
‘Apollo told me he was lazy,
‘And call'd his sister Phœbe crazy.
‘Permit me then your kind protection;
‘From you I cannot fear rejection.’
Tritonia gave me smiles and nods,
(The unsual compliments of Gods,)
And look'd benign as rising sun,
Which gave me courage to go on.
‘—Oh Goddess! let your powerful arms
‘Keep young Ulyssus from all harms;
‘Attend him in each strange adventure,
‘And be, in human form, his mentor:
‘Oh bid him shun Circean feasts,
‘Whose magic pow'r turns men to beasts;
‘Nor let him touch the fatal tree,
‘Lest he forget Penelope:
‘Keep him from a Calypso's arms,
‘And all the treacherous Syren's charms:
‘In Cyclop cells let him not enter;
‘Permit him not at games to venture;
‘Sure as he does, he is undone,
‘Each sharper is a lestrigon;
209

‘Nor city luxury inure him,
‘To be a modern epicurian;
‘(For Temperance, celestial maid,
‘Is still a virtue of the shade:)
‘And dire diseases burn each vein
‘Of those who Temperance prophane,
‘And kill her sacred beeves in vain.
‘The Grecians once to Pluto's glooms
‘So sunk for slaughter'd hecatombs.
‘If men believ'd in transmigration,
‘How would it spare the brute creation?
‘But, Goddess! let him soon return,
‘Nor twice ten years in absence mourn;
‘To those who love, a month appears
‘As long as twenty tedious years.’
Minerva rais'd her ægis high,
That blaz'd effulgence thro' the sky,
And, smiling took the common oath,
To be immensely kind to both;
Then down from heaven's pure æther flew
Swifter than light—in search of you.

On the IMMENSITY of CREATION.

Oh! could I borrow some celestial plume,
This narrow globe should not confine me long
210

In its contracted sphere—the vast expanse,
Beyond where thought can reach, or eye can glance,
My curious spirit, charm'd should traverse o'er,
New worlds to find, new systems to explore:
When these appear'd, again I'd urge my flight
Till all creation open'd to my sight.
Ah! unavailing wish, absurd and vain,
Fancy return and drop thy wing again;
Could'st thou more swift than light move steady on,
Thy sight as broad, and piercing as the sun,
And Gabriel's years too added to thy own;
Nor Gabriel's sight, nor thought, nor rapid wing,
Can pass the immense domains of th' eternal King;
The greatest seraph in his bright abode
Can't comprehend the labours of a God.
Proud reason fails, and is confounded here;
—Man how contemptible thou dost appear!
What art thou in this scene?—Alas! no more
Than a small atom to the sandy shore,
A drop of water to a boundless sea,
A single moment to eternity.
211

A THOUGHT on DEATH.

Alas! my thoughts, how faint they rise,
Their pinions clogg'd with dirt;
They cannot gain the distant skies,
But gravitate to earth.
No angel meets them on the way,
To guide them to new spheres;
And for to light them, not a ray
Of heavenly gace appears.
Return then to thy native ground,
And sink into the tombs;
There take a dismal journey round
The melancholy rooms:
There level'd equal king and swain,
The vicious and the just;
The turf ignoble limbs contain,
One rots beneath a bust.
What heaps of human bones appear
Pil'd up along the walls!
These are Death's trophies—furniture
Of his tremendous halls;
212

The water oozing thro' the stones,
Still drops a mould'ring tear;
Rots the gilt coffin from the bones,
And lays the carcase bare.
This is Cleora—come, let's see
Once more the blooming fair;
Take off the lid—ah! 'tis not she,
A vile impostor there.
Is this the charmer poets sung,
And vainly deified,
The envy of the maiden throng?
(How humbling to our pride!)
Unhappy man, of transient breath,
Just born to view the day,
Drop in the grave—and after death
To filth and dust decay.
Methinks the vault, at ev'ry tread,
Sounds deeply in my ear,
‘Thou too shalt join the silent dead,
‘Thy final scene is here.’
Thy final scene! no, I retract,
Not till the clarion's sound
Demands the sleeping pris'ners back
From the refunding ground:
213

Not till that audit shall I hear
Th' immutable decree,
Decide the solemn question, where
I pass eternity.
Death is the conqueror of clay,
And can but clay detain;
The soul, superior, springs away,
And scorns his servile chain.
The just arise, and shrink no more
At graves, and shrouds, and worms,
Conscious they shall (when time is o'er)
Inhabit angel forms.

ELEGY on the Death of Cleora.

No more of Zephyr's airy robe I'll sing,
Or balmy odours dropping from his wing,
Or how his spicy breath revives the lands,
And curls the waves which roll o'er crystal sands.
No more I'll paint the glowing hemisphere,
Or rocks ambitious, piercing upper air;
The subjects of the grave demand my lay,
Spectator now, I soon shall be as they.
214

Cleora, art thou gone? thou dost not hear
The voice of grief, nor see the dropping tear;
And yet, it soothes my sorrows while I mourn
In artless verse, and weep upon thy urn.
—Tho' bright from thee the rays of beauty stream'd,
Thy mind irradiate, stronger graces beam'd;
The meteor shone so permanent and fair,
Who'd not mistook the vapour for a star?
—E'en then—when lying poets flattering breath
Pronounc'd so fair a form exempt from death;
The icy angel met her on the plain,
And bade our friend adorn his ghastly train;
The vital heat forsakes her loitering blood;
The blood stands still—the springs of life all stood;
Down sunk the fair, while nature gave a groan,
To see her noblest structure fall so soon.
But say, some pow'r, where is the spirit fled,
To wait the time when it shall join the dead?
Say, springs her active soul beyond the skies,
Or still around the clay enamour'd flies?
Or sits exalted on th' empyreal height,
'Midst deluges of primogenial light?
Or else expatiates, with enlarged pow'rs,
Where mortal man's conception never soars?
215

—Ah! when the brittle bands of life are burst,
To meet her on the shores of bliss. I trust;
Sure I shall know her in the realms above,
By those sweet eyes which beam incessant love:
There we'll renew the friendship here begun,
But which shall last thro' th' eternal noon:
Till then suspend my fond enquiries, where,
And with what souls she breathes immortal air;
Meanwhile, with imitative art I'll try,
Nobly like her to live—like her to die!

Written in the Retreat from Burgoyne.

Was it for this, with thee a pleasing load,
I sadly wander'd thro' the hostile wood;
When I thought fortune's spite could do no more,
To see thee perish on a foreign shore?
Oh my lov'd babe! my treasure's left behind,
Ne'er sunk a cloud of grief upon my mind;
Rich in my children—on my arms I bore
My living treasures from the scalper's pow'r:
When I sat down to rest beneath some shade,
On the soft grass how innocent she play'd,
216

While her sweet sister, from the fragrant wild,
Collects the flow'rs to please my precious child;
Unconscious of her danger, laughing roves,
Nor dreads the painted savage in the groves.
Soon as the spires of Albany appear'd,
With fallacies my rising grief I cheer'd;
‘Resign'd I bear,’ said I, ‘heaven's just reproof,
‘Content to dwell beneath a stranger's roof;
‘Content my babes should eat dependent bread,
‘Or by the labour of my hands be fed:
‘What tho' my houses, lands, and goods are gone,
‘My babes remain—these I can call my own.’
But soon my lov'd Abella hung her head,
From her soft cheek the bright carnation fled;
Her smooth transparent skin too plainly shew'd
How fierce thro' every vein the fever glow'd.
—In bitter anguish o'er her limbs I hung,
I wept and sigh'd, but sorrow chain'd my tongue;
At length her languid eyes clos'd from the day,
The idol of my soul was torn away;
Her spirit fled and left me ghastly clay!
Then—then my soul rejected all relief,
Comfort I wish'd not for, I lov'd my grief:
‘Hear, my Abella!’ cried I, ‘hear me mourn,
‘For one short moment, oh! my child return;
‘Let my complaint detain thee from the skies,
‘Though troops of angels urge thee on to rise.’
217

All night I mourn'd—and when the rising day
Gilt her sad chest with his benignest ray,
My friends press round me with officious care,
Bid me suppress my sighs, nor drop a tear;
Of resignation talk'd—passions subdu'd,
Of souls serene and christian fortitude;
Bade me be calm, nor murmur at my loss,
But unrepining bear each heavy cross.
‘Go!’ cried I raging, ‘stoick bosoms go!
‘Whose hearts vibrate not to the sound of woe;
‘Go from the sweet society of men,
‘Seek some unfeeling tyger's savage den,
‘There calm—alone—of resignation preach,
‘My Christ's examples better precepts teach.’
Where the cold limbs of gentle Laz'rus lay
I find him weeping o'er the humid clay;
His spirit groan'd, while the beholders said
(With gushing eyes) ‘see how he lov'd the dead!’
And when his thoughts on great Jerus'lem turn'd,
Oh! how pathetic o'er her fall he mourn'd!
And sad Gethsemene's nocturnal shade
The anguish of my weeping Lord survey'd:
Yes, 'tis my boast to harbour in my breast
The sensibilities by God exprest;
Nor shall the mollifying hand of time,
Which wipes off common sorrows, cancel mine.
218

A COMPLAINT.

Tell me thou all pervading mind,
When I this life forsake,
Must ev'ry tender tie unbind,
Each sweet connection break?
How shall I leave thee, oh! my love,
And blooming progeny?
If I without thee mount above,
'Twill be no heav'n to me.
Ah! when beneath the arching vault
My lifeless form's remov'd,
Let not oblivion sink the thought,
How much, how long I lov'd.
Come oft my grassy tomb to see,
And drop thy sorrows there;
No balmy dews of heav'n shall be
Refreshing as thy tear.
There give thy griefs full vent to flow
O'er the unconscious dead,
With no spectator to thy woe
But my attendant shade.
219

ANOTHER.

Still apprehending death and pain,
To whom great God shall I complain?
To whom pour out my tears
But to the pow'r that gave me breath,
The arbiter of life and death,
The ruler of the spheres?
Soon to the grave's Cimmerian shade
I must descend without thine aid,
To stop my spirit's flight;
Leave my dear partner here behind,
And blooming babe, whose op'ning mind
Just lets in Reason's light.
When she, solicitous to know
Why I indulge my silent woe,
Clings fondly round my neck,
My passions then know no commands,
My heart with swelling grief expands,
Its tender fibres break.
Father of the creation wide,
Why hast thou not to man deny'd
The silken tye of love?
220

Why food celestial let him taste,
Then tear him from the rich repast,
Real miseries to prove?

A PROSPECT of DEATH.

Death! thou real friend of innocence,
Tho' dreadful unto shivering sense,
I feel my nature tottering o'er
Thy gloomy waves, which loudly roar:
Immense the scene, yet dark the view,
Nor Reason darts her vision thro'.
Virtue! supreme of earthly good,
Oh let thy rays illume the road;
And when dash'd from the precipice,
Keep me from sinking in the seas:
Thy radient wings, then wide expand,
And bear me to celestial land.

To Miss Catharine Ten Eyck.

Come and see our habitation,
Condescend to be our guest;
Tho' the veins of warring nations
Bleed, yet here secure we rest.
221

By the light of Cynthia's crescent,
Playing thro' the waving trees;
When we walk, we wish you present
To participate our bliss.
Late indeed, the cruel savage
Here with looks ferocious stood;
Here the rustic's cot did ravage,
Stain'd the grass with human blood.
Late their hands sent conflagration
Rolling thro' the blooming wild,
Siez'd with death, the brute creation
Mourn'd, while desolation smil'd.
Spiral flames from tallest cedar
Struck to heav'n a heat intense;
They cancell'd thus with impious labour,
Wonders of Omnipotence.
But when Conquest rear'd her standard,
And th' Aborigines were fled,
Peace, who long an exile wander'd,
Now return'd to bless the shade.
Now Æolus blows the ashes
From sad Terra's black'ned brow,
While the whist'ling swain with rushes
Roofs his cot, late levell'd low.
222

From the teeming womb of Nature
Bursting flow'rs exhale perfume;
Shady oaks, of ample stature,
Cast again a cooling gloom.
Waves from each reflecting fountain,
Roll again unmix'd with gore,
And verging from the lofty mountain,
Fall beneath with solemn roar.
Here, embosom'd in this Eden,
Cheerful all our hours are spent;
Here no pleasures are forbidden,
Sylvan joys are innocent.

THE STORM.

Come let us sing how when the Judge Supreme
Mounts the black tempest, arm'd with pointed flame,
What clust'ring horrors form his awful train:
Columns of smoke obscure the crystal skies,
The whirlwind howls, the livid lightning flies,
The bursting thunder sounds from shore to shore,
Earth trembles at the loud prolonged roar:
223

Down on the mountain forests rush the hail,
Th' aspiring pines fall headlong in the vale;
The riv'lets, swell'd with deluges of rain,
Rise o'er their banks and overflow the plain.
Th'affrighted peasant ope's his humble door,
While from his roof the clatt'ring torrents pour,
He sees his barns all red with conflagration,
His flocks borne off by sudden inundation;
His teeming fields, robb'd of their wavy pride,
By cat'rects tumbling down the mountain's side.
The shock suspends his pow'rs, he stands distrest,
To see his toil of years at once revers'd.
His tender mate, of philosophic foul,
Reproves his grief, and thus her accents roll:
‘Exert thy fortitude, for grief is vain,
‘Our bread by labour we can yet obtain:
‘If riches were the test of virtue, then
‘Pale Poverty were infamy to men;
‘But since we find the virtuous often dwells
‘In public odium, or in lonely cells,
‘While those whose crimes blot Nature's aspect o'er,
‘Who burn whole towns, and quench the flames in gore;
224

‘In Pleasure's lap supine their moments spend,
‘Yet wish annihilation when they end;
‘The laws of retribution then require,
‘Our joys begin with death—when their's expire;
‘Reason allows no scepticism here,
‘The good must hope, the bad have much to fear:
‘And take a retrospect of thy past years,
‘What placid scenes on every hand appears!
‘To call the tears of black Remorse no crime,
‘Can now suffuse thy cheek or cloud thy mind.
‘Grieve not that Fate, with elemental strife
‘Has torn away our hopes of mortal joys;
‘To put our virtues but in exercise
‘Are the misfortunes that arise in life.’
The rustic heard his sorrows all away,
Sweet Peace broke on him with a bright'ning ray;
Calmness and Hope their empire repossest,
Amidst the storm he feels serenely blest;
Amidst the wreck of all his earthly store
He feels more grateful than he did before.
225

DESPONDENCY.

Come Grief, and sing a solemn dirge
Beneath this midnight shade;
From central darkness now emerge,
And tread the lonely glade.
Attend each mourning pow'r around,
While tears incessant flow;
Strike all your strings with doleful sound,
Till Grief melodious grow.
This is the cheerless hour of night,
For sorrow only made,
When no intrusive ray of light
The silent glooms pervade.
Tho' such the darkness of my soul,
Not such the calmness there,
But waves of guilt tumultuous roll
'Midst billows of despair.
Fallacious Pleasure's tinsel train
My soul rejects with scorn;
If higher joys she can't attain,
She'd rather chuse to mourn
226

For bliss superior she was made,
Or for extreme despair:
If pain awaits her past the dead
Why should she triumph here?
Tho' Reason points at good supreme,
Yet Grace must lead us thence;
Must wake us from this pleasing dream,
The idle joys of Sense.
Surely I wish the blackest night
Of Nature to remain,
'Till Christ arise with healing light,
Then welcome day again.

ELEGY on the death of Gen. Montgomery.

Melpomene, now strike a mournful string,
Montgomery's fate assisting me to sing!
Thou saw him fall upon the hostile plain
Yet ting'd with blood that gush'd from Moncalm's veins,
Where gallant Wolfe for conquest gave his breath,
Where num'rous heroes met the angel Death.
227

Ah! while the loud reiterated roar
Of cannon echoed on from shore to shore,
Benigner Peace, retiring to the shade,
Had gather'd laurel to adorn his head:
The laurel yet shall grace his bust; but, oh!
America must wear sad cypress now.
Dauntless he led her armies to the war,
Invulnerable was his soul to fear:
When they explor'd their way o'er trackless snows,
Where Life's warm tide thro' every channel froze,
His eloquence made the chill'd bosom glow,
And animated them to meet the foe;
Now flam'd this bright conspicuous grace alone,
The softer virtues in his bosom shone;
It bled with every soldier's recent wound;
He rais'd the fallen vet'ran from the ground;
He wip'd the eye of grief, it ceas'd to flow;
His heart vibrated to each sound of woe:
His heart too good his country to betray
For splendid posts or mercenary pay,
Too great to see a virtuous land opprest,
Nor strive to have her injuries redress'd.
Oh had but Carleton suffer'd in his stead!
Had half idolitrous Canadia bled!
228

'Tis not for him but for ourselves we grieve,
Like him to die is better than to live;
His urn by a whole nation's tears bedew'd,
His mem'ry blest by all the great and good:
O'er his pale coarse the marble soon shall rise,
And the tall column shoot into the skies;
There long his praise by freemen shall be read,
As softly o'er the hero's dust they tread.
 

In St. Paul's Church, in the city of New-York, is a beautiful monument raised to his memory, by order of Congress, 1783.

THAUMANTIA and FAME.

Go Thaumantia,' said Jove, ‘and descend from the sky,
‘For Fame's golden clarion I hear;
‘Go learn what great mortal's desert is so high
‘As to ask notes so loud, sweet, and clear.
The goddess in haste met the starry wing'd dame,
And demands why her notes she does raise?
‘For the greatest of patriots and heroes,’ said Fame,
‘Tell Jove it is Washington's praise!’
229

RECOLLECTION.

Soon as the gilded clouds of evening fly,
And Luna lights her taper in the sky,
The silent thought inspiring solemn scene
Awakes my soul to all that it has been.
I was the parent of the softest fair
Who ere respir'd in wide Columbia's air;
A transient glance of her love beaming eyes
Convey'd into the soul a paradise.
How has my cheek with rapture been suffus'd,
When sunk upon my bosom she repos'd?
I envied not the ermin'd prince of earth,
Nor the gay spirit of æriel birth;
Nor the bright angel circumfus'd with light,
While the sweet charmer liv'd to bless my sight.
What art thou now, my love!—a few dry bones,
Unconscious of my unavailing moans:
Oh! my Abella! oh! my bursting heart
Shall never from thy dear idea part!
Thro' Death's cold gates thine image will I bear,
And mount to heav'n, and ever love thee there.
230

On Reading DRYDEN's VIRGIL.

Now cease these tears, lay gentle Vigil by,
Let recent sorrows dim the pausing eye:
Shall Æneas for lost Creusa mourn,
And tears be wanting on Abella's urn?
Like him I lost my fair one in my flight
From cruel foes—and in the dead of night.
Shall he lament the fall of Illion's tow'rs,
And we not mourn the sudden ruin of our's?
See York on fire—while borne by winds each flame
Projects its glowing sheet o'er half the main:
Th' affrighted savage, yelling with amaze,
From Allegany sees the rolling blaze.
Far from these scenes of horror, in the shade
I saw my aged parent safe convey'd;
Then sadly follow'd to the friendly land,
With my surviving infant by the hand.
No cumb'rous houshold gods had I indeed
To load my shoulders, and my flight impede;
The hero's idols sav'd by him remain;
My gods took care of me—not I of them!
The Trojan saw Anchises breathe his last,
When all domestic dangers he had pass'd:
231

So my lov'd parent, after she had fled,
Lamented, perish'd on a stranger's bed.
—He held his way o'er the Cerulian Main,
But I return'd to hostile fields again.

To Miss Ten Eyck.

Dear Kitty, while you rove thro' sylvan bow'rs,
Inhaling fragrance from salubrious flow'rs,
Or view your blushes mant'ling in the stream,
When Luna gilds it with her amber beam;
The brazen voice of war awakes our fears,
Impearling every damask cheek with tears.
The savage, rushing down the echoing vales,
Frights the poor hind with ill portending yells;
A livid white his consort's cheeks invest;
She drops her blooming infant from her breast;
She tries to fly, but quick recoiling fees
The painted Indian issuing from the trees;
Then life suspensive sinks her on the plain,
Till dire explosions wake her up again.
Oh horrid sight! her partner is no more;
Pale is his corse, or only ting'd with gore;
232

Her playful babe is dash'd against the stones,
Its scalp torn off, and fractur'd all its bones.
Where are the dimpling smiles it lately wore?
Ghastly in agony it smiles no more!
Dumb with amaze, and stupify'd with grief,
The captur'd wretch must now attend her chief:
Reluctantly she quits the scene of blood,
When lo! a sudden light illumes the wood:
She turns, and sees the rising fires expand,
And conflagration roll thro' half the land;
The western flames to orient skies are driv'n,
And change the azure to a sable heav'n.
Such are our woes, my dear, and be it known
Many still suffer what I tell of one:
No more Albania's sons in slumber lie,
When Cynthia's crescent gleams along the sky;
But every street patrole, and thro' the night
Their beamy arms reflect a dreadful light.
Excuse, dear girl, for once this plaintive strain;
I must conclude, lest I transgress again.
 

Now Mrs. Bridgen.

To Mr. Bleecker, on his passage to New-York.

Shall Fancy still pursue th' expanding sails,
Calm Neptune's brow, or raise impelling gales?
Or with her Bleecker, ply the lab'ring oar,
When pleasing scenes invite him to the shore,
233

There with him thro' the fading vallies rove,
Blest in idea with the man I love?
Methinks I see the broad majestic sheet
Swell to the wind; the flying shores retreat:
I see the banks, with varied foliage gay,
Inhale the misty sun's reluctant ray;
The lofty groves, stript of their verdure, rise
To the inclemence of autumnal skies.
Rough mountains now appear, while pendant woods
Hang o'er the gloomy steep and shade the floods;
Slow moves the vessel, while each distant sound
The cavern'd echoes doubly loud rebound:
A placid stream meanders on the steep,
'Till tumbling from the cliff, divides the frowning deep.
Oh tempt not Fate on those stupendous rocks,
Where never shepherd led his timid slocks;
But shagged bears in those wild deserts stray,
And wolves, who howl against the lunar ray:
There builds the rav'nous hawk her lofty nest,
And there the soaring eagle takes her rest;
The solitary deer recoils to hear
The torrent thundering in the mid-way air.
Ah! let me intercede—Ah! spare her breath,
Nor aim the tube charg'd with a leaden death.
234

But now advancing to the op'ning sea,
The wind springs up, the less'ning mountains flee;
The eastern banks are crown'd with rural seats,
And Nature's work, the hand of Art completes.
Here Philips's villa, where Pomona joins
At once the product of a hundred climes;
Here, ting'd by Flora, Asian flow'rs unfold
Their burnish'd leaves of vegetable gold.
When snows descend, and clouds tumultuous fly
Thro' the blue medium of the crystal sky,
Beneath his painted mimic heav'n he roves
Amidst the glass-encircled citron groves;
The grape and lucious fig his taste invite,
Hesperian apples glow upon his sight;
The sweet auriculas their bells display,
And Philips finds in January, May.
But on the other side the cliffs arise,
Charybdis like, and seem to prop the skies:
How oft with admiration have we view'd
Those adamantine barriers of the flood?
Yet still the vessel cleaves the liquid mead,
The prospect dies, th' aspiring rocks recede;
New objects rush upon the wond'ring sight,
Till Phœbus rolls from heav'n his car of light,
And Cynthia's silver crescent gilds the night.
235

I hear the melting flute's melodious sound,
Which dying zephyrs waft alternate round,
The rocks in notes responsive soft complain,
And think Amphian strikes his lyre again.
Ah! 'tis my Bleecker breathes our mutual loves,
And sends the trembling airs thro' vocal groves.
Thus having led you to the happy isle
Where waves circumfluent wash the fertile soil,
Where Hudson, meeting the Atlantic, roars,
The parting lands dismiss him from their shores;
Indulge th' enthusiast muse her fav'rite strain
Of panegyrio, due to Eboracia's plain.
There is no land where heav'n her blessings pours
In such abundance, as upon these shores;
With influence benign the planets rise,
Pure is the æther, and serene the skies;
With annual gold kind Ceres decks the ground,
And gushing springs dispense bland health around.
No lucid gems are here, or flaming ore,
To tempt the hand of Avarice and Pow'r;
But sun-burnt Labour, with diurnal toil,
Bids treasures rise from the obedient soil,
And Commerce calls the ships across the main,
For gold exchanging her superfluous grain;
While Concord, Liberty, and jocund Health
Sport with young Pleasure 'mid the rural wealth.
 

The SEAT of Colonel Philips.

236

A SHORT PASTORAL DIALOGUE.

LUCIA.
Come, my Delia, by this spring
Nature's bounties let us sing,
While the popler's silver shade
O'er our lambkins is display'd.

DELIA.
See how she has deck'd the ground
Op'ning flow'rets blush around;
Crystals glitter on each hill,
Polish'd by the falling rill.

LUCIA.
Here the berries bend the vine,
Lucid grapes at distance shine;
Here the velvet peach, and there
Apples, and the pendant pear.

DELIA.
View this maple, from whose wound
Honey trickles on the ground:
Who these luxuries can taste
Thankless of the rich repast?

237

LUCIA.
Delia, I could sit all day
List'ning to your grateful lay;
But now solar beams invade,
Let us seek a closer sh de.

 

Designed for the use of her daughter and niece when very young.

HOPE arising from Retrospection.

Alas! my fond enquiring soul,
Doom'd in suspence to mourn;
Now let thy moments calmly roll,
Now let thy peace return.
Why should'st thou let a doubt disturb
Thy hopes, which daily rise,
And urge thee on to trust his word
Who built and rules the skies?
Look back thro' what intricate ways
He led thy unfriended feet;
Oft mourning in the cheerless maze,
He ne'er forsook thee yet.
When thunder from heav'n's arch did break,
And cleft the sinking ship,
His mercy snatch'd thee from the wreck,
And from the rolling deep:
238

And when Disease, with threat'ning mein,
Aim'd at thy trembling heart,
Again his mercy interven'd,
And turn'd aside the dart.
When Murder sent her hopeless cries
More dreadful thro' the gloom,
And kindling flames did round thee rise,
Deep harvests to consume;
Who was it led thee thro' the wood
And o'er th' ensanguin'd plain,
Unseen by ambush'd sons of blood,
Who track'd thy steps in vain?
'Twas pitying heav'n that check'd my tears,
And bade my infants play,
To give an opiate to my fears,
And cheer the lonely way.
And in the doubly dreadful night
When my Abella died,
When horror struck—detesting light!
I sunk down by her side:
When wing'd for flight my spirit stood,
With this fond thought beguil'd,
To lead my charmer to her God,
And there to claim my child;
239

Again his mercy o'er my breast
Effus'd the breath of peace;
Subsiding passions sunk to rest,
He bade the tempest cease.
Oh! let me ever, ever praise
Such undeserved care;
Tho' languid may appear my lays,
At least they are sincere.
I never will distrust thee more,
Tho' hell should aim her dart;
Innoxious is infernal pow'r,
If thou Protector art.
It is my joy that thou art God,
Eternal, and supreme—
Rise Nature! hail the power aloud,
From whom creation came.

On seeing Miss S. T. E. crossing the Hudson.

Tis she, upon the sapphire flood,
Whose charms the world surprise,
Whose praises, chanted in the wood,
Are wafted to the skies,
240

To view the heaven of her eyes,
Where'er the light barque moves,
The green hair'd sisters, smiling, rise
From out their sea-girt groves.
E'en Neptune quits his glassy caves,
And calls out from afar,
‘So Venus look'd, when o'er the waves
‘She drove her pearly car.’
He bids the winds to caves retreat,
And there confin'd to roar:
‘But here,’ said he, ‘forbear to breathe,
‘ 'Till Susan comes on shore.’

To Miss M. V. W.

Peggy, amidst domestic cares to rhyme
I find no pleasure, and I find no time;
But then, a Poetess, you may suppose,
Can better tell her mind in verse than prose:
True—when serenely all our moments roll,
Then numbers flow spontaneous from the soul:
Not when the mind is harrassed by cares,
Or stunn'd with thunders of intestine wars,
Or circled by a noisy, vulgar throng,
(Noise ever was an enemy to song.)
241

What tho' the spiral pines around us rise,
And airy mountains intercept the skies,
Faction has chac'd away the warbling Muse,
And Echo only learns to tattle news,
Each clown commences politician here,
And calculates th' expences of the year;
He quits his plow, and throws aside his spade,
To talk with squire about decrease of trade:
His tedious spouse detains me in her turn,
Condemns our measures and neglects her churn.
Scarce can I steal a moment from the wars
To read my Bible, or to say my pray'rs:
Oh! how I long to see those halcyon days
When Peace again extends to us her rays,
When each, beneath his vine, and far from fear,
Shall beat his sword into a lab'ring share.
Then shall the rural arts again revive,
Ceres shall bid the famish'd rustic live:
Where now the yells of painted sons of blood
With long vibrations shake the lonely wood,
All desolate, Pomona shall behold
The branches shoot with vegetable gold;
Beyond the peasant's sight the springing grain
Shall wave around him o'er the ample plain;
242

No engines then shall bellow o'er the waves,
And fright blue Thetis in her coral caves,
But commerce gliding o'er the curling seas,
Shall bind the sever'd shores in ties of peace.
Then Washington, reclining on his spear,
Shall take a respite from laborious war,
While Glory on his brows with awful grace
Binds a tiara of resplendent rays.
How faint the lustre of imperial gems
To this immortal wreath his merit claims!
See from the north, where icy mountains rise,
Down to the placid climes of southern skies,
All hail the day that bids stern discord cease,
All hail the day which gives the warrior peace:
Hark! the glad nations make a joyful noise!
And the loud shouts are answer'd from the skies;
Fame swells the sound wrapt in her hero's praise,
And darts his splendors down to latest days.

To Mrs. D---.

Dear Betsey now Pleasure the woodland has left,
Nor more in the water she laves,
Since winter the trees of their bloom has bereft,
And stiffen'd to crystal the waves.
243

Now clad all in fur our guest she appears,
By the fire-side a merry young grig;
She pours out the wine, our pensiveness cheers,
And at night leads us out to a jig.
Then venture among the tall pines if you dare,
Encounter the keen arctic wind;
Dare this for to meet with affection sincere,
And Pleasure untainted you'll find.
I know you have Pleasure, my sister, by whiles,
But then she appears in great state;
She is hard of access, and lofty her smiles,
While Envy and Pride on her wait.
Thro' drawing rooms, Betsey, you'll chase her in vain,
The Colonel may seek her in blood;
The Poets agree (and they cannot all feign)
That she's born and resides in the wood.

On a great COXCOMB recovering from an Indisposition.

Narcissus (as Ovid informs us) expir'd,
Consum'd by the flames his own beauty had fir'd;
244

But N—o (who like him is charm'd with his face,
And sighs for his other fair-self in the glass)
Loves to greater excess than Narcissus—for why?
He loves himself too much to let himself die.

An EVENING PROSPECT.

Come my Susan, quit your chamber,
Greet the op'ning bloom of May,
Let us on you hillock clamber,
And around the scene survey.
See the sun is now descending,
And projects his shadows far,
And the bee her course is bending
Homeward thro' the humid air.
Mark the lizard just before us,
Singing her unvaried strain,
While the frog, abrupt in chorus,
Deepens thro' the marshy plain.
From yon grove the woodcock rises,
Mark her progress by her notes,
High in air her wings she poises,
Then like lightning down she shoots.
245

Now the whip-o-well beginning,
Clam'rous on a pointed rail,
Drowns the more melodious singing
Of the cat-bird, thrush, and quail.
Pensive Echo, from the mountain,
Still repeats the sylvan sounds,
And the crocus border'd fountain,
With the splendid fly abounds.
There the honeysuckle blooming,
Reddens the capricious wave;
Richer sweets—the air perfuming,
Spicy Ceylon never gave.
Cast your eyes beyond this meadow,
Painted by a hand divine,
And observe the ample shadow
Of that solemn ridge of pine.
Here a trickling rill depending,
Glitters thro' the artless bow'r;
And the silver dew descending,
Doubly radiates every flow'r.
While I speak, the sun is vanish'd,
All the gilded clouds are fled,
Music from the groves is banish'd,
Noxious vapours round us spread.
246

Rural toil is now suspended,
Sleep invades the peasant's eyes,
Each diurnal task is ended,
While soft Luna climbs the skies.
Queen of rest and meditation,
Thro' thy medium I adore
Him—the Author of Creation,
Infinite, and boundless pow'r.
'Tis he who fills thy urn with glory,
Transcript of immortal light;
Lord! my spirit bows before thee,
Lost in wonder and delight.

A HYMN.

Omnicient and eternal God,
Who hear'st the faintest pray'r
Distinct as Hallelujahs loud,
Which round thee hymned are.
Here, far from all the world retir'd,
I humbly bow the knee,
And wish, (as I have long desir'd,)
An interest in thee.
247

But my revolting heart recedes
And rushes to the croud;
My passions stop their ears and lead,
Tho' conscience warns aloud.
How deeply sinful is my mind?
To every ill how prone?
How stubborn my dead heart I find
Insensible as stone?
The hardest marble yet will break,
Nor will resist the steel;
But neither wrath nor love can make
My flinty bosom feel.
My passions like a torrent roar,
And tumbling to hell's glooms
Sweep me away from Reason's shore,
To “where Hope never comes.”
By labour turn'd the useless stream
Thro' fertile vales has play'd;
But for to change the course of sin
Demands immortal aid.
All nature pays the homage due
To the supremely blest;
All but the favour'd being who
Was plac'd above the rest.
248

He bids the teeming earth to bear,
The blushing flow'rs arise;
At his command the sun appears
And warms the orient skies.
Oh! was I but some plant or star,
I might obey him too;
Nor longer with the Being war,
From whom my breath I drew.
Change me, oh God! with ardent cries
I'll venture to thy seat;
And if I perish; hell must rise
And tear me from thy feet.

To Miss Brinckerhoff, on her quitting New-York.

Eliza, when the southern gale
Expands the broad majestic sail,
While Friendship breathes the parting sigh,
And sorrow glitters in each eye,
The vessel leaves the flying shores,
Receding spires and less'ning tow'rs;
And as it cleaves the lucid sea,
The distant tumult dies away:
249

Then pensive as the deck you quit,
Caressing sable rob'd regret,
Indulging every rising fear,
And urging on the pendant tear,
While Recollection's flatt'ring eye
Your former pleasures magnify;
Then shall your guardian spirit smile,
Rejoic'd that Fate rewards his toil;
And as he mounts on ærial wing,
Thus to his kindred angels sing:
‘Hail, happy hour that snatch'd my fair
‘To æther pure, from city air,
‘Where Vice triumphant lifts her head
‘And hisses Virtue to the shade;
‘Where Temperance vacates each feast;
‘Where Piety is grown a jest;
‘Where Flatt'ry, dress'd in robes of truth,
‘Inculcates pride in heedless youth;
‘Where oft with folded wings I spy
‘The torpid soul inactive lie,
‘Shut up in sense, forbid to rear
‘Her plume beyond our atmosphere.
‘How bless'd my charge, whom gentler fate
‘Leads early to the green retreat,
‘Where every object thoughts inspire
‘Exalted to seraphic fire;
250

‘And where the speculative mind
‘Expatiates free and unconfin'd;
‘There surely I shall find access
‘To cherish ev'ry budding grace,
‘Enlarging still each nobler pow'r,
‘Till active, like myself they soar.
‘And when my pupil learns her worth,
‘She'll feel a just contempt for earth,
‘And six her elevated sight
‘Alone on primogenial light:
‘Nor shall her charms external fade,
‘But bloom and brighten in the shade;
‘While innate graces still shall rise,
‘And dart their radiance thro' her eyes.’

To JULIA AMANDA.

Fair Julia Amanda, now since it is peace,
Methinks your hostilities also should cease;
The shafts from your eyes, and the snares of your smile,
Should cease—or at least be suspended awhile:
'Tis cruel to point your artillery of charms
Against the poor lads who have laid down their arms.
251

The sons of Bellona who Britain defies,
Altho' bulletproof, must they fall by your eyes?
In vain have they bled, they have conquer'd in vain,
If returning in triumph, they yield to your chain.
For shame! in the olive's salubrious shade
Your murders restrain, and let peace be obey'd;
Since Europe negociates, alter your carriage,
While they treat of peace, make a treaty of marriage.

PEACE.

All hail vernal Phœbus! all hail ye soft breezes!
Announcing the visit of spring;
How green are the meadows! the air how it pleases!
How gleefully all the birds sing!
Begone ye rude tempests, nor trouble the æther,
Nor let blushing Flora complain,
While her pencil was tinging the tulip, bad weather
Had blasted the promising gem.
252

From its verdant unfoldings, the timid narcissus
Now shoots out a diffident bud;
Begone ye rude tempests, for sure as it freezes
Ye kill this bright child of the wood:
And Peace gives new charms to the bright beaming season;
The groves we now safely explore
Where murd'ring banditti, the dark sons of treason,
Were shelter'd and aw'd as before.
The swain with his oxen proceeds to the valley
Whose seven years sabbath concludes,
And blesses kind heaven, that Britain's black ally
Is chas'd to Canadia's deep woods.
And Echo no longer is plaintively mourning,
But laughs and is jocund as we;
And the turtle ey'd nymphs, to their cots all returning,
Carve ‘Washington,’ on every tree.
I'll wander along by the side of yon fountain,
And drop in its current the line,
To capture the glittering fish that there wanton;
Ah, no! 'tis an evil design.
253

Sport on little fishes, your lives are a treasure
Which I can destroy, but not give;
Methinks it's at best a malevolent pleasure
To bid a poor being not live.
How lucid the water! its soft undulations
Are changeably ting'd by the light;
It reflects the green banks, and by fair imitations
Presents a new heaven to sight.
The butterfly skims o'er its surface, all gilded
With plumage just dipt in rich dies;
But yon infant has seiz'd the poor insect, ah! yield it;
There, see the freed bird how it flies!
But whither am I and my little dog straying?
Too far from our cottage we roam;
The dews are already exhal'd; cease your playing,
Come, Daphne, come let us go home.

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.

SCENE—TOMHANICK.

1780.

SUSANNA.
Eliza, rise, the orient glows with day,
Already Phosphor darts his amber ray;
254

The fainting planets vanish from the skies,
Distinct already all the prospects rise;
Begin our walk, but cheer the lonely way
With music, previous to the swallow's lay.

ELIZA.
My sister, cease, these hostile shades refuse
Admission to the lute or peaceful Muse;
Lo! the broad standard shades the flow'ry plain,
Nor crooks (but musquets) arm the awkward swain;
Death's heavy engines thunder thro' the vale,
And Echo but retorts the savage yell;
From undissembled grief my numbers flow,
And few the graces that attend on woe.

SUSANNA.
Yet sing—e'en woe a pleasure can impart,
When sweetly warbled, or if told with art.

ELIZA.
Columbia rescued from barbaric pow'rs,
Drew all the sons of want unto her shores;
The indigent, th' opprest, a sighing host,
And wretches exil'd from their native coast;
For whom European affluence could not spare
A frugal morsel, pining Want to cheer;
Hither repair'd, and with incessant toil
Fell'd the tall trees from the incumber'd soil:
255

From the low cottage now recede the oaks,
The forest answers to the woodman's strokes;
Hard was the toil, but amply (soon) repaid
By golden harvests, which the valleys shade;
Vertumnes added to his native stores
Exotic fruits, and Flora planted flow'rs:
Then temples rose, the harbours open'd wide,
And wealthy ships flow'd in with every tide.
Thus rich and happy, virtue made them gay,
And hard got Freedom blest each cheerful day;
By industry those blessings they obtain'd,
And learn'd to value what they dearly gain'd.
—Americans! ye thought your labours o'er,
Ah no! the hydra Envy brings you more.
Now cast thine eyes o'er the Cerulian Main,
See George conspicuous by his bloody reign;
Hard by Oppression's iron chair is seen,
Where menacing she sits with threat'ning mein;
Still as the monarch smiles, and to her turns,
Sad Freedom trembles—all the people mourns.
‘Art thou indeed a king,’ the fury cries,
‘And see'st thy subjects all like rivals rise?
‘A land of princes, opulent and proud,
‘Scarce thou thyself distinguish'd from the croud:
256

‘Reduce their sumless stores, their pow'r withstand,
‘Kings were not made to ask, but to command:
‘See the licentious land by riot rent,
‘Say, what but fear can keep the slaves content?
‘Soon thy rich rival on th' Atlantic shore
‘Will scorn to ask thy aid, or own thy pow'r:
‘Then bow thy sceptre heavy o'er the waves,
‘Thy safety urges, and they must be slaves;
‘Restrict their trade, severer laws invent,
‘And to inforce them be thy armies sent.
Ah simple prince! learn but the easier arts,
With mildest sway to rule thy people's hearts;
Firm as the centre then thy throne should stand,
Rever'd and guarded by a grateful land.
Columbia weeps, she kneels before the throne,
But plaints, and tears, and sighs, avail her none;
One sad alternative alone remains,
The woes of war, or else the tyrant's chains.
This, Virtue from the western mountains heard,
‘Be calm, my sons,’ she cried, ‘I am your guard;
‘But if th' ambitious homocide shall dare
‘To pour across the seas the tide of war,
257

‘Arm, arm in haste! 'tis heav'n's and freedom's cause!’
Consenting nations echoed loud applause.
Now Britain's marine thunders shake the ground,
New Albian's structures fall in ruins round;
The mournful fires extend along the strand,
And ocean blushes as the fires expand;
The flames still rise, till quench'd with human blood,
The sanguine stream commixes with the flood;
Then ocean blushes deeper still with gore,
And Desolation shrieks along the shore:
Nor do her coasts alone the fury feel,
Deep in her forests gleams the deadly steel;
Britannia's ally, from his dark recess,
With fell intent invades the shades of Peace.
See the low cot with ivy cover'd o'er,
Where age and youth sit smiling at the door;
The virgin carols on the dusty road,
And sprightly music fills the vocal wood:
Calm are the skies, the dewy poppies blow,
Nor man, nor beast is conscious of a foe:
Swift, like a hurricane destruction flies,
The cottage blazes, and its owner dies.
258

Look from this point, where op'ning glades reveal
The glassy Hudson shining 'twixt the hills;
There many a structure dress'd the steepy shore,
And all beyond were daily rising more:
The bending trees with annual fruit did smile,
Each harvest sure, for fertile is the soil:
Nor need the peasant immolate his ox,
Nor hunger press him to decrease his flocks;
The stately stag a richer feast supplies,
The river brings him fish of various size;
With water fowl his silver lakes abound,
And honey gushes from the maple's wound.
Autumnal show'rs attemper'd Phœbus' ray,
The blooming meads with deep'ning green were gay,
The birds were cheerful, nor the rustic less,
Joy on his cheek, and in his bosom peace;
Down rush'd the tawny natives from the hill,
And every place with fire and murder fill;
Arm'd with the hatchet and a flaming brand,
They soon reverse the aspect of the land:
Observe, Susanna, not a bird is there,
The tall burnt trees rise mournful in the air,
Nor man nor beast the smoking ruins explores,
And Hudson flows more solemn by those shores.
259

But ah! I see thee turn away and mourn,
Thy feeling heart with silent anguish torn;
Cheer up, tho' long and dark has been our night,
The deepest shades precede the morning light;
And when I recollect our heavenly aid,
Hope flushes round and dissipates the shade;
He who reveng'd the blood of Abel spilt
Has thunders sure for more extensive guilt;
Nor can we doubt, when horrors round us clos'd
His obvious arm how lately interpos'd,
To render Britain's northern phalanx vain,
To blast the traitor, and defeat his plan.
For what contest we? is it thirst of gain,
Or thirst of blood that fills the land with slain?
Ah, no! tenacious of the gift of God
We would defend our Freedom with our blood;
She arms our sons, she bids them nobly dare,
And calls on Conquest to decide the war:
What tho' the Goddess still defers the blow,
Her arm shall soon repel th' invading foe;
Her arm unfurl our starry standard wide,
For Conquest loves to be on Freedom's side.
Then let the disappointed navy fly,
Cursing the winds and inauspicious sky,
While acclamations fill the region round,
And from their hollow ships loud shouts rebound.

 

Burgoyne's army.

Arnold.

260

RETURN TO TOMHANICK.

Hail, happy shades! tho' clad with heavy snows,
At sight of you with joy my bosom glows;
Ye arching pines, that bow with every breeze,
Ye poplars, elms, all hail my well-known trees!
And now my peaceful mansion strikes my eye,
And now the tinkling rivulet I spy;
My little garden Flora hast thou kept,
And watch'd my pinks and lilies while I wept?
Or has the grubbing swine, by furies led,
Th' inclosure broke, and on my flowrets fed?
Ah me! that spot with blooms so lately grac'd,
With storms and driving snows is now defac'd;
Sharp icicles from ev'ry bush depend,
And frosts all dazzling o'er the beds extend:
Yet soon fair Spring shall give another scene,
And yellow cowslips gild the level green;
My little orchard sprouting at each bough,
Fragrant with clust'ring blossoms deep shall glow:
261

Ah! then 'tis sweet the tufted grass to tread,
But sweeter slumb'ring in the balmy shade;
The rapid humming bird, with ruby breast,
Seeks the parterre with early blue bells drest,
Drinks deep the honeysuckle dew, or drives
The lab'ring bee to her domestic hives:
Then shines the lupin bright with morning gems,
And sleepy poppies nod upon their stems;
The humble violet and the dulcet rose,
The stately lily then, and tulip blows.
Farewell my Plutarch! farewell pen and Muse!
Nature exults—shall I her call refuse?
Apollo fervid glitters in my face,
And threatens with his beam each feeble grace:
Yet still around the lovely plants I toil,
And draw obnoxious herbage from the soil;
Or with the lime-twigs little birds surprise,
Or angle for the trout of many dyes.
But when the vernal breezes pass away,
And loftier Phœbus darts a fiercer ray,
The spiky corn then rattles all around,
And dashing cascades give a pleasing sound;
Shrill sings the locust with prolonged note,
The cricket chirps familiar in each cot,
262

The village children, rambling o er yon hill,
With berries all their painted baskets fill,
They rob the sqirrels little walnut store,
And climb the half exhausted tree for more;
Or else to fields of maize nocturnal hie,
Where hid, th' elusive water-melons lie;
Sportive, they make incisions in the rind,
The riper from the immature to find;
Then load their tender shoulders with the prey,
And laughing bear the bulky fruit away.
no previous section The posthumous works of Ann Eliza Bleecker, in prose and verse
no next section