The Last Poems of Philip Freneau

Now, all things hid from observation,
Went on in silent preparation,
And all advanced, with caution due,
Concealed from Salem's wizzard view.
A woman's wits are always bright
When something future is in sight.
Susannah managed so the matter,
Elijah, with a grin, looked at her,
And said—“My dear, my dearest heart,
You act, by far, the slyest part;
We owe to Salem five years' rent,
With interest due at ten per cent.
To pay him off must be my care,
Or I shall be, the Lord knows where.”
Susannah answered, “Never mind,
We'll leave him and his rent behind.”
Both managed so their future mission
That nothing gave the least suspicion,
Both seemed contented with their lot
Though toiling hard for little got.
Susannah kept her wheel in motion,
And went to church with due devotion,
Smiling, she ate the scanty meal,
And ply'd the eternal spinning wheel,
Which, like the globe, from west to east
Revolved, and never was at rest,
Which made Susannah's fingers red,
Chafed by the furrows of the thread,
And little got for all her labor
From cousin, father, friend or neighbor.

One morning Salem hove in view,
And kindly asked them, “How do ye do?”
SUSANNAH
O Father!—well as well can be!

SALEM
The case is just the same with me.
But times are hard, and money scarce,
I say it, both in prose and verse,
Could sing it too, upon a pinch,
But—have you money—tell me, wench.

SUSANNAH
La! Money! Father!—not a cent,
For faster than received it went.
I sold some stockings at the stall,
But little wants consumed it all.

SALEM
And have you laid aside the notion
Of travelling to the western ocean?
Elijah!—did you count the expense?
I thought you, once, a man of sense,
But, if with purse and means so slim,
You persevere in such a whim,
I own 'tis past my comprehension
Your brains should harbor the intention.
I tell you plainly, first and last,
My thoughts are of a different cast,
Debts, due for rent, are serious things,
Landlords have eyes—and you have wings.
People are mad, to ramble far,
Better be steady where you are.
There's neighbor Isaac, and young Joe—
And they would to Kentucky go!

But, in the course of one short moon,
Came back, and sang a different tune.
Some people love to rove and wander
'Till things compel them to knock under.
Some aim to rove the wide world through,
And fix at last at—Tombuctoo.

ELIJAH
We had a notion much the same,
(We all at Independence aim)
But second thoughts put all to rest,
And second thoughts are often best.
Yet, I must own, while worrying here,
And crawling on from year to year,
Of all we owe you for your rent
We cannot pay a single cent.
And therefore, in my humble view,
Some other plan might better do:
And I must honestly confess
I had rather live in the wilderness,
Than thus be dunned, and plagued, and teazed,
And even by friends and cousins squeezed;
And I must say, and you must see
The dogs are happier, far, than we.
Happy the man whose grass who tills,
And drinks at the Sanduskie hills—
Recall the tune you used to play,
Over the hills, and far away!

SALEM
Drink those who will, or those who can—
I would not be that happy man.

ELIJAH
Let each his favorite plan pursue—
Neither would I, if I was you—
On Fortune's wheel you have advanced,
To every tune of Fortune danced,
Still in pursuit of wealth and heaven,
Ready to drive, or to be driven
But must confess with tears, at last,
They drove too slow or drove too fast.
And who would trust in such a man,
Who gains by scheming, all he can.
What farmer would confide his stock
Or cattle to Boon Island rock,
Where all that grows is poor indeed,
For all it yields is ocean weed.
On those who quarrel with a straw
You take the vengeance of the law,
On those who, to dispel the spleen,
On Sabbath eve sing, bonny Jean,
You oft impose a heavy fine,
Or take them in the pillory whine;
For heedless youth you lie in wait,
Blue devils from blue laws create,
And all for what?—the love of gain,
Of wealth, that may not long remain.

SALEM
You lecture in a serious style—
Yet, I am patience, all the while,
'Tis true—it cannot be denied,
Satan is on the safer side.

ELIJAH

Could I but find contentment here,
My toils repaid each closing year,

Could we but bring the year about,
And half our living mere sour-krout,
Not love of wealth, or love of fame,
Nor all the Loves that you might name,
Not SPEECHES, famed from shore to shore,
Of Congress men on Congress floor,
Not all the wisdom, in debate,
Of Sages, sent from every State,
Not all the wreathes Napoleon gained,
Nor all the realm o'er which he reigned
Ere Austria from his league withdrew,
And Fortune from his standard flew;
Not honors by Virginia done,
To talk with men like Jefferson;
Not Carolina's fields of rice,
Not Florida, that paradise,
Not half Missouri, at my will,
Should tempt me from my Domicil.

To this the answer was not long,
'Twas the mere echo of a song.
Addressed to one, who, did he hear,
Would still have turned the deafened ear.—
Salem secure, not overawed,
Grimacing, only—hemmed and hawed.

A large negro city on the river Niger, in the central part of Africa.

A Tract of Country on the south side of Lake Erie. A new tavern erected on Sanduskie Bay.

An Insular Rock, about 500 yards in length, about 4 leagues east of Portland, in the new state of Maine.

University of Virginia Library

Elijah, The New England Emigrant. No. IV