 | The Last Poems of Philip Freneau |  |
96
Circumnavigation
The Franklin, with her sails unfurled,
Wafts the first Lady round the world,
That, from Columbus to this day,
Was ever known so far to stray.
Wafts the first Lady round the world,
That, from Columbus to this day,
Was ever known so far to stray.
In such a view, who can mistake?—
She is a modern Francis Drake;
Who, with the patience of a Job,
First put a girdle round the Globe.
Good luck!—when first she went on board,
I marked the belt of Irion's sword:
It shone benign—and Noah's Dove
Not augured ill, but boded love.
She is a modern Francis Drake;
Who, with the patience of a Job,
First put a girdle round the Globe.
Good luck!—when first she went on board,
I marked the belt of Irion's sword:
It shone benign—and Noah's Dove
Not augured ill, but boded love.
But, from the vast Pacific main,
Ere Iphigenia comes again,
Will not her fine complexion change,
And half imbibe the olive tinge?—
Ere Iphigenia comes again,
Will not her fine complexion change,
And half imbibe the olive tinge?—
Stop, Anson, and your journal shew—
I think she sails as far as you:
Both Tropics have the Franklin seen,
And both have welcomed Iphigene.
I think she sails as far as you:
Both Tropics have the Franklin seen,
And both have welcomed Iphigene.
To be companion to the sun,
Is not the chance of every one;—
To travel round our earthly sphere,
Would madness to that dame appear,
Is not the chance of every one;—
To travel round our earthly sphere,
Would madness to that dame appear,
97
Who, idly bred to walk the streets,
And smile, perhaps, on half she meets,
On Hudson, mostly, takes the air,
And ends her navigation there:
And smile, perhaps, on half she meets,
On Hudson, mostly, takes the air,
And ends her navigation there:
She, rather than survey new shores,
Would teaze the clerks in merchants' stores,
When to the shelves she bids them fly,
For goods, she never meant to buy:
Would teaze the clerks in merchants' stores,
When to the shelves she bids them fly,
For goods, she never meant to buy:
She more regards her parlour fire,
And more it suits her home desire.
Than all the ardent climates known,
Or lamps that warm the torrid zone.
And more it suits her home desire.
Than all the ardent climates known,
Or lamps that warm the torrid zone.
What female, in our cities born,
But dreads the mention of Cape Horne,
The Polar ice, barbarian states,
Magellan's clouds, Magellan's streights?
But dreads the mention of Cape Horne,
The Polar ice, barbarian states,
Magellan's clouds, Magellan's streights?
Not so the female we pourtray,
Who, now, upon the watery way,
Views distant isles, and shores, that we
Immured at home, can never see.
Who, now, upon the watery way,
Views distant isles, and shores, that we
Immured at home, can never see.
Fair lady, may you safely sail,
And may your Chaplain's prayers prevail,
When he, good creature, at his ease
Demands fair weather and smooth seas.
And may your Chaplain's prayers prevail,
When he, good creature, at his ease
Demands fair weather and smooth seas.
Like Venus, late our evening guest,
If now we lose you in the west,
The day may come, when from afar,
You will return, a morning star.
If now we lose you in the west,
The day may come, when from afar,
You will return, a morning star.
You will return!—and, on your way,
Some sighs of recollection pay—
You will return, and view that Isle,
Where lost Napoleon grieved awhile,
And rests, repultured in that spot,
Where Parma's Dutchess heeds him not.
Some sighs of recollection pay—
You will return, and view that Isle,
98
And rests, repultured in that spot,
Where Parma's Dutchess heeds him not.
You will return with Indian Teas,
And porcelain from the famed Chinese,
And rarest products ever known,
And Monkies, purchased at Ceylon,
That will in every street appear,
And rival half our Dandies here.
And porcelain from the famed Chinese,
And rarest products ever known,
And Monkies, purchased at Ceylon,
That will in every street appear,
And rival half our Dandies here.
| The Last Poems of Philip Freneau | |