The poetical works of John Trumbull . | ||
AN ELEGY ON THE TIMES:
Composed at Boston, during the operation of the Port-Bill.
Where Commerce triumph'd on the fav'ring gales;
And each pleased eye, that roved in prospect round,
Hail'd thy bright spires and bless'd thy opening sails!
The gay throng crowded in thy spacious streets,
From either Ind, thy cheerful stores were fill'd,
Thy haven joyous with unnumber'd fleets.
Tall groves of masts arose in beauteous pride;
Glad ocean shone beneath the swelling sails,
And wafted plenty on the bord'ring tide.
Catch the soft airs and wanton in the sky:
But hostile beaks affright the guarded shore,
And pointed thunders all access deny.
Where tyrant vengeance waved her fatal wand,
Far from the sight each friendly vessel veers,
And flies averse the interdicted strand.
With lowing herds and grassy vesture fair,
Th' insulting tents of barb'rous troops are strown,
And bloody standards stain the peaceful air.
That gilds the fading lustre of thy name,
These the bold trophies of thy later days,
That close the period of thine early fame?
On freedom's shrine th' unhallow'd vengeance bend,
And leave forlorn the desolated world,
Crush'd every foe and ruin'd every friend?
Where virtue kindled and where genius soar'd;
Or damp'd by darkness and the dismal sway
Of senates venal and liveried lord?
And o'er the scene thy factious nobles wait,
Prompt the mix'd tumult of the noisy show,
Guide the blind vote and rule the mock debate.
With abject fear the fond complaint to raise,
Lift fruitless off'rings to the ear of scorn
Of servile vows and well-dissembled praise!
Learn from their cries the blameless flock to spare?
Will the deaf gods, that frown in molten gold,
Heed the duped vot'ry and the prostrate prayer?
We rear'd our suppliant hands with filial awe,
While loud Disdain with ruffian voice replied,
And falsehood triumph'd in the garb of law?
See Ribaldry, vile prostitute of shame,
Stretch the bribed hand and dart th' envenom'd tongue,
To blast the laurels of a Franklin's fame!
Controll'd the lightning in its fierce career,
O'er heaven's dread vault bade harmless thunders roll,
And taught the bolts etherial where to steer;
The voice of kingdoms swells the loud applause,
Heed the weak malice of a courtier's frown,
Or dread the insolence of wrested laws?
The vengeful bolt no muse's laurels ward;
From Britain's rage, like death's relentless dart,
No worth can save us and no fame can guard.
Fair Freedom buried in the whelming flood;
Nor charter'd rights her tyrant course control,
Tho' seal'd by kings and witness'd in our blood.
A hand to save us or a heart to bless:
'Tis strength, our own, must stem the rushing tide,
'Tis our own virtue must command success.
(No rage intemp'rate aids the public weal;)
Nor basely blend, too daring but in vain,
Th' assassin's madness with the patriot's zeal.
From shameless foes ungrateful wrongs to bear;
Alike removed from baseness and from rage,
The flames of faction and the chills of fear.
That buys our ruin at a price so rare,
And while we scorn Britannia's servile chain,
Disdain the livery of her marts to wear.
The curst idolatry of silks and lace,
Bid our gay robes insult our country's woe,
And welcome slavery in the glare of dress?
Shall clothe in neat array the cheerful train,
While heaven-born virtues bless the sacred toil,
And gild the humble vestures of the plain.
Shall weave her silks to deck the wanton age:
But as in Rome, the furrow'd vale shall yield
The conq'ring hero and paternal sage.
And warmly press the dissipated round,
Grace the ripe banquet with the charms of wine,
And roll the thund'ring chariot o'er the ground;
With heart regardless of your country's pain,
Your flatt'ring falshoods feed the ears of guile,
And barter freedom for the dreams of gain!
In downs of ease and dalliance to repose,
Quaff streams nectareous in the domes of state,
And blaze in grandeur of imperial shows?
The thatch-roof'd hamlet and defenceless shed,
The tatter'd garb, that meets th' inclement air,
The famish'd table and the matted bed—
With gifts autumnal crowns the bearded plain,
In vain glad summer warms the genial soil,
And spring dissolves in softening showers in vain;
And chill oppression, with her frost severe,
Sheds a dire blast, that nips the rising blade,
And robs th' expecting labors of the year.
That bears the terror of a tyrant's word,
Bend the weak knee and raise the suppliant hand;
The scorn'd, dependant vassals of a lord?
Brave the scorch'd vapor of th' autumnal air,
Then pour the hard-earn'd harvest at his feet,
And beg some pittance from our pains to share.
From the mad rule of hierarchal pride,
O'er pathless seas our injured fathers fled,
And follow'd freedom on th' advent'rous tide;
Th' insidious savage, and the crimson plain,
To us bequeath'd the prize their woes had won,
Nor deem'd they suffer'd, or they bled in vain.
Whose beams of glory bless'd their purpled morn,
Nor meet thy louring insolence with scorn?
That checks the surges of th' Atlantic deep;
What weak eye trembles at the frown of power,
What torpid soul invites the bands of sleep?
What gen'rous gifts the woes of want assuage,
And sympathetic tears of pity start,
To aid the destined victims of thy rage!
To wayward madness wakes th' impassion'd throng;
No thoughtless furies sheath our breasts in steel,
Or call the sword t' avenge th' oppressive wrong
One guardian genius, one pervading soul
Nerves the bold arm, inspires the just design,
Combines, enlivens, and illumes the whole.
Nor names more noble graced the rolls of fame,
Or Latian virtue fann'd th' heroic flame.
On Solon's lips when Grecian senates hung;
Nor manlier eloquence the bosom fired,
When genius thunder'd from th' Athenian tongue.
By the bribed slave in pension'd lists enroll'd;
Or awe their councils by the voice prophane,
That wakes to utt'rance at the call of gold?
Where guilt is stranger to th' ingenuous heart,
Or craft illude, where godlike science sheds
The beams of knowledge and the gifts of art?
Pencil with night the sun's ascending ray,
Bid the broad veil eclipse the noon-tide hour,
And damps of Stygian darkness shroud the day;
Or chain the angry vengeance of the waves;
Then hope thy breath can quench th' immortal fire,
And free souls pinion with the bonds of slaves.
View the bold deeds, that wait the dawning age,
Where Time's strong arm, that rules the mighty maze,
Shifts the proud actors on this earthly stage.
For have not kings and fortune made thee great;
Or lurks not wisdom in th' ennobled brow,
And dwells no prescience in the robes of state?
Taint thy pure zephyrs with their baleful breath,
How deep corruption spreads th' envenom'd tide,
And whelms thy land in darkness and in death.
And fost'ring influence of propitious skies,
This western world, the last recess of fame,
Sees in her wilds a new-born empire rise—
Defies its foes, assembled to destroy,
And like Alcides, with its infant power
Shall crush those serpents, who its rest annoy
Pierce the dim veil of fate's obscure domain:
The morning dawns, th' effulgent star is nigh,
And crimson glories deck our rising reign.
Where rest the wonders of ascending fame,
What heroes rise, immortal heirs of praise!
What fields of death with conq'ring standards flame!
What towering armies stretch their banners wide,
Where cold Ontario's icy waves are roll'd,
Or far Altama's silver waters glide!
Descending pines the surging ocean brave,
Rise in tall masts, the floating canvas spread,
And rule the dread dominions of the wave!
The smiling lawns in full luxuriance bloom;
The harvest wantons in its golden pride,
The flowery garden breathes a glad perfume.
That haven, rich with many a flowing sail,
Where friendly ships, from earth's remotest bound,
Float on the cheerly pinions of the gale;
And meanly prison'd by thy fleets no more,
And far as ocean's billowy tides are borne,
Lifts her dread ensigns of imperial power.
Whose floods fair York and deep Albania lave,
Or Philadelphia's happier clime surveys
Her splendid seats in Delaware's lucid wave:
Where fertile streams the garden'd vales divide,
And mid the peopled fields, distinguish'd rise
Virginian towers and Charleston's spiry pride.
See dress'd in glory and the bloom of grace,
This virgin clime unfolds her brightest charms,
And gives her beauties to thy fond embrace.
What heaven-born muses wake the raptured song!
The vocal groves attune the warbling lay,
And echoing vales the rising strains prolong.
That lose their currents in th' eternal wave,
Till heaven's last trump shall rend th' affrighted spheres,
And ope each empire's everlasting grave;
And robe our vallies in perpetual prime,
And ages blest of undisturb'd renown
Arise in radiance o'er th' imperial clime.
Where stormy Neptune rolls his utmost tide,
Where suns oblique diffuse a feeble ray,
And lonely streams the fated coasts divide,
The mournful traces of the fame she bore,
Where matted thorns oppress th' uncultur'd fields,
And piles of ruin load the dreary shore?
From fell Corruption's bold and venal hand;
Reluctant Freedom waved her last adieu,
And devastation swept the vassall'd land.
Her melancholy Genius sits to wail,
Drops the fond tear, and o'er her latest shame,
Bids dark Oblivion draw th' eternal veil.
Note 3—On the origin of the words, Yankies, Indians, Whigs and Tories.—When the Portuguese under Vasco de Gama made their first discoveries in the East, they found the country at which they arrived, was called by the natives Hindostan or the land of the Hindoos. These names the Europeans softened to the appellations, India and the Indies. The original design of Columbus was only to find a passage to India by sailing to the West; and when he reached the American Islands, he supposed that he had attained his object. The new-discovered lands were called the West-Indies, and the name of Indians was given to all the native inhabitants, not only of those Islands, but of the whole continent of America.
Yankies.—The first settlers of New-England were mostly
This seems the most probable origin of the term. The pretended Indian tribe of Yankoos does not appear to have ever had an existence: as little can we believe in an etymological derivation of the word from ancient Scythia or Siberia, or that it was ever the name of a horde of savages in any part of the world.
Tories and Whigs.—The appellation of Tories was first given to the native Irish, who dwelt, or were driven, beyond the English pale, as it was called, and like the moss-troopers and outlaws on the borders of Scotland, for some centuries carried on a desultory and predatory war, against the British settlements in Dublin and the eastern and southern parts of Ireland. In the civil wars in the time of Charles the first, these clans adhered to the royal party and were finally attacked and subdued by Cromwell.
In England this name seems to have been first applied to that part of the army of Charles, who were distinguished by the appellation of Cavaliers. A number of young noblemen and gentlemen of the first families, who adhered to the king, formed themselves into volunteer troops of cavalry. They were not more famous for courage in the field, than notorious for their dissolute manners and intemperate riots. Singing catches and ballads was then the fashionable music of society. To every stanza in the old ballads was annexed a chorus, called the burden or wheel of the song, which usually consisted of a roll of unmeaning sounds, in which the whole company joined with the utmost vociferation. They had a favorite ballad suited to the times, and as much in vogue, as the Ca ira was afterwards in the French revolution. Its chorus was
The word Whig originally meant a sour, astringent kind of crab-apple. The ancient proverbial comparison, “as sour as a Whig,” is still in use among the vulgar. In ridicule of the short, clipped hair and penitential scowl of the puritans, who served in the army of Cromwell, the royalists called them Whigs, prick-ears and round-heads.
Whether these facts afford a full explanation of the origin of the terms must be left to the decision of the antiquarians, among whom it has long been a subject of dispute. Certain
During the revolutionary war in America, the friends of liberty and Independence assumed the title of Whigs, and stigmatized, as Tories, all those who adhered to the king of England and advised submission to the demands of the British parliament. In this sense the terms are used in M'Fingal and by all cotemporary writers on American politics. But since the acknowledgement of our Independence and the adoption of a constitutional form of government in the United States, these names have gradually fallen into disuse, are considered
This vindictive Act of the British Parliament placed the town of Boston in a state of naval blockade, and by suppressing all commercial intercourse by sea, was designed to ruin its trade and prosperity.
See the proceedings in 1774, of the Lords in Council, on the Petition of the House of Representatives of Massachusetts to the King, praying for the removal of their Governors; and the virulent and abusive attack on the character of Dr. Franklin, who presented the Petition, by Alexander Wedderburn, (afterwards Lord Loughborough,) in his speech before their Lordships on the trial.
Alluding to the resolves for the non-importation, and non-consumption of British goods: first proposed by the Committee of correspondence in Boston, in the year 1774, and adopted in Congress at their session in the succeeding winter.
Liberal contributions, from all the United Colonies, were made for supplying the necessities, and alleviating the distresses of the inhabitants of Boston, during the total suppression of the trade of that town.
The poetical works of John Trumbull . | ||