[The Hamiltoniad or, An extinguisher for the royal faction of New-England. With copious notes, illustrative, biographical, philosophical, critical, admonitory, and political; being intended as a high-heeled shoe for all limping republicans. By Anthony Pasquin] [i.e. by John Williams] |
 |
|
| 2. |
| 3. |
 | [The Hamiltoniad |  |
33
THE HAMILTONIAD.
[OMITTED]CANTO THE SECOND.
Argument.
A chilling description of the Autumnal Season, coloured from life—The Tories in a political purgatory—The King's Fisher, is sorely diseased in spirit and vomits his grief, in numbers, more varied in feet, than the Centiped— He confesseth multifarious transgressions—Pope Timothy become pious from sympathy—The minor Feds, put in their claim to consideration.
Through Heaven's high arch pursued his beamy way,
To visit Libra; (an autumnal form)
Convulsing Ocean with a ruthless storm,
That buried navies in th'unfathom'd deep:—
When withering Ministers made Nature weep—
34
And shed the honors of the Forest round;
(Sad, mortal emblem, for perturbed man!)
When Ants, in myriads, to their grain'ries ran—
When Yeomen squeez'd their apples into juice;
Expressing cyder for the hamlet's use:
35
When ruddy cheek'd Pomona hous'd her fruit:
When the tann'd Husbandman had stack'd his corn;
The husking past; and Plenty sill'd her horn:
When Flies, who'd seen three moons, with age grew blind:
When Geese prepar'd to perish for mankind!
36
When Care began to pile his winter's logs:
When Robins ceas'd to warble on the spray,
And Nature's vigour seem'd to feel decay:
When Housewives buy new blankets for their beds:
The shatter'd remnants of these Royal Feds,
37
Pourtray'd their matchless agonies, in song!!—
First, the King's Fisher (now no halcyon nigh)
Commenc'd his peerless ditty, with a sigh!
Th'egregious Dabbler, in the parts of speech,
Alternately would threaten and beseech:
38
Led by the Ignis fatuus of his brain!
Oh, for the loyal days of Gen'ral Gage;
When Yankees sung, their sorrows, in—a cage!
Express'd a reverence in the tone of fear,
And paid their tribute with a decent tear:
39
With perfect modesty, how Coleman—lies:
The bronze of Carpenter proclaims his sect;
And Park gives nonsense aspect and effect;
How Imposition doats upon their clack!
What charming chesnuts, for the De'el to crack!
40
The R---lls drink their claret from—my scull:
Ligneous lump, the seat of mental pains,
Cumbrous as woe, yet unoppress'd with—brains!
John A---s growls, indignant, but forlorn,
While the world gives their pity for his scorn!
God help the little States, they're full of trouble;
Fortune's a jilt! Ambition is a bubble;
Good by'e, Rhode-Island—Delaware, adieu;
Behold these tears! they gush, they flow, for you:
Forefend them Heaven, for sure that day will come,
When Pennsylvania's and Virginia's claws,
Shall seize these tiny Darlings, for their maws,
And gulp them, as the Cow did Tommy Thumb!
The Philosophic Chief of Monticello,
Is such a heterodox and hungry fellow;
Churches and Chapels, Synagogues and Kirkies,
To him are Capons, Ducks, and Geese and Turkies.
Faith stalks at large—Urbanity will swagger;
And redd'ning Bigotry must hide his dagger:
Had I his power, prerogative, and place,
I'd trim these Wits, and flog 'em into—grace;
Fry, like Saint Larry, casuistic Souls;
Satan might like a rasher on the coals—
My heated temper mounts, inflam'd with ire;
And, boils, like Julien's soup, upon the fire!
Would I were metamorphos'd to a Flea,
I'd hop to Washington, with cruel glee,
Steal in the galligaskins of our Chief,
And make his Excellency twist with grief;
Watch, when he wrote of Diplomatic news;
And make him careless of his P's and Q's.
Ah, now I droop, beneath the thumb of Care,
I'll take off Horror's cutting edge, by prayer:
While the world gives their pity for his scorn!
41
Fortune's a jilt! Ambition is a bubble;
Good by'e, Rhode-Island—Delaware, adieu;
Behold these tears! they gush, they flow, for you:
Forefend them Heaven, for sure that day will come,
When Pennsylvania's and Virginia's claws,
Shall seize these tiny Darlings, for their maws,
And gulp them, as the Cow did Tommy Thumb!
42
Is such a heterodox and hungry fellow;
Churches and Chapels, Synagogues and Kirkies,
To him are Capons, Ducks, and Geese and Turkies.
43
And redd'ning Bigotry must hide his dagger:
Had I his power, prerogative, and place,
I'd trim these Wits, and flog 'em into—grace;
Fry, like Saint Larry, casuistic Souls;
Satan might like a rasher on the coals—
44
And, boils, like Julien's soup, upon the fire!
Would I were metamorphos'd to a Flea,
I'd hop to Washington, with cruel glee,
Steal in the galligaskins of our Chief,
And make his Excellency twist with grief;
45
And make him careless of his P's and Q's.
Ah, now I droop, beneath the thumb of Care,
I'll take off Horror's cutting edge, by prayer:
The King's Fisher's Prayer.
Vir bonus est QUIS!
The good man's a political Quiz!
The good man's a political Quiz!
Vide Dog-Latin.
46
For thee, oh George, and kingly craft,
From my heart's core, I fervent waft
My sighs across the ocean:
Ah! could I here thy influence see,
I'd grub up Freedom's sacred tree,
And give the Furies motion.
From my heart's core, I fervent waft
My sighs across the ocean:
Ah! could I here thy influence see,
I'd grub up Freedom's sacred tree,
And give the Furies motion.
47
Farmers and vile Mechanics too,
(Faugh! now I scent the vulgar crew)
Will in the Congress gabble;
Where none but pension'd Lords should sit,
T'indorse the writs of Billy Pitt,
And muzzle all the rabble.
(Faugh! now I scent the vulgar crew)
Will in the Congress gabble;
Where none but pension'd Lords should sit,
T'indorse the writs of Billy Pitt,
And muzzle all the rabble.
48
Hot Rage, is gnawing through my trunk,
Be calm, my soul—I'll try the Monk,
Come hither, Jedidiah!
Let Faith's pure articles be mine;
I know you'd swallow thirty-nine,
And be a mitre higher.
Be calm, my soul—I'll try the Monk,
Come hither, Jedidiah!
Let Faith's pure articles be mine;
I know you'd swallow thirty-nine,
And be a mitre higher.
49
I will not be that Thing I am;
Give to my grasp the Oriflamme;
I'll wield the gaudy banners:
Dazzle the senses of the croud,
Amaze the weak—Seduce the proud,
And royalize their manners.
Give to my grasp the Oriflamme;
I'll wield the gaudy banners:
Dazzle the senses of the croud,
Amaze the weak—Seduce the proud,
And royalize their manners.
50
My throbbing heart can bear no more:
Make me combustious—half seas o'er:
High charg'd from Treason's cup:
Then lead me midst the virtuous throng,
I'll watch the acmé of their song,
Then burst and blow 'em up!
Make me combustious—half seas o'er:
High charg'd from Treason's cup:
Then lead me midst the virtuous throng,
I'll watch the acmé of their song,
Then burst and blow 'em up!
51
Ah! would the witch of Colchos, shew,
(For I'm no Conjuror you know)
How she makes Dragons dozy:
I'd physic Pasquin and Duane,
Lull the fierce guards of Cheetham's brain,
Till Truth, with wrath, was rosy!
(For I'm no Conjuror you know)
How she makes Dragons dozy:
I'd physic Pasquin and Duane,
Lull the fierce guards of Cheetham's brain,
Till Truth, with wrath, was rosy!
52
As I grow old, I go astray;
Come sweet Hygeia wash away
The bile from off my liver;
Having but Sysiphean skill,
To raise a stone that rolls down hill,
I curse the gift and giver.
Come sweet Hygeia wash away
The bile from off my liver;
Having but Sysiphean skill,
To raise a stone that rolls down hill,
I curse the gift and giver.
53
There's --- swore he'd stab our Chief,
And yet the wretch ('tis past belief)
Mocks God at the communion!
If I cry, zounds! how Deacons bark,
Or get six cents worth, in the dark,
'Tis told to all the Union!
And yet the wretch ('tis past belief)
Mocks God at the communion!
If I cry, zounds! how Deacons bark,
Or get six cents worth, in the dark,
'Tis told to all the Union!
54
Were we hung up in classic skies,
As signals, chang'd, for telling lies,
How Bonaparte'd stare!
E---y a lateral Crab you'd see;
Bandano and grim Laco'd be
The great and lesser Bear!
As signals, chang'd, for telling lies,
How Bonaparte'd stare!
E---y a lateral Crab you'd see;
Bandano and grim Laco'd be
The great and lesser Bear!
55
My whiskers, once of hazel hue,
Chang'd, like Moll Coggin's wig, to blue,
May aid to 'scape detection:
My cheeks are wet with tory tears;
Each Wish is pinch'd by rising Fears,
And Chagrin rides Reflection.
Chang'd, like Moll Coggin's wig, to blue,
May aid to 'scape detection:
My cheeks are wet with tory tears;
Each Wish is pinch'd by rising Fears,
And Chagrin rides Reflection.
56
What reck'ning Freedom has 'gainst me!
Could she but keep an Inn, d'ye see,
I'd list while Patriots talk:
Steal in her bar with visage sad,
Swear that the heart-burn made me mad,
And lick off all the chalk!
Could she but keep an Inn, d'ye see,
I'd list while Patriots talk:
Steal in her bar with visage sad,
Swear that the heart-burn made me mad,
And lick off all the chalk!
57
What's Aristocracy, but woe?
A social bane—the Christian's foe!
I would, but can't, run from it:
Grandeur's a bubble, boiling hot,
For God's sake, Patience, bring the pot,
'Fore Heaven, I shall vomit!
A social bane—the Christian's foe!
I would, but can't, run from it:
Grandeur's a bubble, boiling hot,
For God's sake, Patience, bring the pot,
'Fore Heaven, I shall vomit!
58
Then Wisdom thus, with pitying looks,
“Egregious man, I gave thee books,
But you have never read 'em;
Embrace those blisses Fate has sent;
Be Free—Be equal—Be content,
And smile, once more, at Dedham!
“Egregious man, I gave thee books,
But you have never read 'em;
Embrace those blisses Fate has sent;
Be Free—Be equal—Be content,
And smile, once more, at Dedham!
59
Let Britain fight, for Britain's self.
Put all thy essays on the shelf;
Propel no more the riot:
Contract the measure of thy cares;
Eschew sedition—say thy pray'rs:
And go to sleep in quiet.”
Put all thy essays on the shelf;
Propel no more the riot:
Contract the measure of thy cares;
Eschew sedition—say thy pray'rs:
And go to sleep in quiet.”
60
Like the Phœbeian Byblis, craz'd with fears,
Sat Pontiff Tim, dissolving into tears;
By Misery mark'd, and smarting with her rod,
He threw his Lexicon at Laco's god:
Now wept, now laugh'd, at each convulsive throe,
A Tragi-comic, spectacle of woe!
At length, in pity, to his matchless grief,
Morpheus descended to infuse relief;
Gather'd a herb, from the Cimmerian bed,
And squeez'd the zest, with labour, through his head;
Then, most sublimely stupid, Yale's black lord,
Fell down recumbent, snuffled, writh'd and snor'd—
Rapt, in his sleep, all gorgeous, big and bright,
The vast Hierarch fill'd his mental sight;
To all the Diocesan aims allied!—
Forestalling every privilege of pride!—
Freighting with thunders from the Mother Church!—
Leaving the vulgar Christian in the lurch!—
Sinking in soul, a Despot to adore!—
Kissing the skirts of Babylon's red whore!—
To make D. D.'s ennobled, rich and grand,
And scatter mitres o'er the promis'd land:
For Massachusetts, (on the Monk's petition)
He trac'd an Abbey, for his own condition:
But gave Connecticut the—INQUISITION!
While yet the vision blisses could impart;
While Joy's full tide was pouring through his heart:
The papal bubble broke!—That Imp of song,
His own man Noah (ever in the wrong)
Stole in to tell him, with a hideous yell,
How C---b had struggled, and how W---l fell!
When all his nerves were knitted by Despair;
And Grandeur melted into viewless air!
Thus, when a vapour, (issued from a fen,)
Fraught with a pest, to sow disease 'mong men,
Hangs pendant on the margin of a Town,
With sullen ponderance and sable frown;
A keen North-Wester, rushing from the Lakes,
Bursts the concretion and the fluid breaks.
Then rosy-finger'd Health resumes her sway,
And Truth's broad beam irradiates the day.
Superb New-Haven moan'd—Hope look'd askew,
And pale Uriah's candles all burnt blue:
The minor Feds pour'd in, with panting breath,
To crave his blessing, ere they sunk in death;
But Tim was so bewilder'd with his sorrow,
He d---d them all, and bade them call to-morrow:
While Retribution, to coerce their glories,
Spread a tenesmus and hard-bound the Tories!
Sat Pontiff Tim, dissolving into tears;
By Misery mark'd, and smarting with her rod,
He threw his Lexicon at Laco's god:
Now wept, now laugh'd, at each convulsive throe,
A Tragi-comic, spectacle of woe!
At length, in pity, to his matchless grief,
Morpheus descended to infuse relief;
Gather'd a herb, from the Cimmerian bed,
And squeez'd the zest, with labour, through his head;
61
Fell down recumbent, snuffled, writh'd and snor'd—
Rapt, in his sleep, all gorgeous, big and bright,
The vast Hierarch fill'd his mental sight;
To all the Diocesan aims allied!—
Forestalling every privilege of pride!—
Freighting with thunders from the Mother Church!—
Leaving the vulgar Christian in the lurch!—
Sinking in soul, a Despot to adore!—
Kissing the skirts of Babylon's red whore!—
To make D. D.'s ennobled, rich and grand,
And scatter mitres o'er the promis'd land:
For Massachusetts, (on the Monk's petition)
He trac'd an Abbey, for his own condition:
But gave Connecticut the—INQUISITION!
62
While Joy's full tide was pouring through his heart:
The papal bubble broke!—That Imp of song,
His own man Noah (ever in the wrong)
Stole in to tell him, with a hideous yell,
How C---b had struggled, and how W---l fell!
When all his nerves were knitted by Despair;
And Grandeur melted into viewless air!
63
Fraught with a pest, to sow disease 'mong men,
Hangs pendant on the margin of a Town,
With sullen ponderance and sable frown;
A keen North-Wester, rushing from the Lakes,
Bursts the concretion and the fluid breaks.
Then rosy-finger'd Health resumes her sway,
And Truth's broad beam irradiates the day.
64
And pale Uriah's candles all burnt blue:
The minor Feds pour'd in, with panting breath,
To crave his blessing, ere they sunk in death;
But Tim was so bewilder'd with his sorrow,
He d---d them all, and bade them call to-morrow:
While Retribution, to coerce their glories,
Spread a tenesmus and hard-bound the Tories!
END OF CANTO SECOND.
65
CANTO THE THIRD.
Argument.
Winter delineated in all his horrors—A slight sketch in imitation of Virgil's Night—Somnus, in compassion to the Royal Faction, administers a short repose—They are awakened by their familiar Demon—Each utters a dying Speech—The Gods, offended at their criminality and arrogance, extinguish their humanity in a metamorphosis—An Elegy at their hall of carousal.
When, at past four, P. M. the radiant God,
(Led by the Paphian Boy's imperious nod)
Sunk, neath th'horizon, arm'd with am'rous fires,
His magic song, announcing his desires:
To clasp his Thetis to his burning breast;
Leaving a sordid hemisphere to rest;
Amid th'inclement rulers of the hour—
When Winter's icy minions urge their pow'r—
In that dread Season, when the saline force,
Congeals the Baltic and arrests its course:
When savage Boreas begins his reign,
And pours his terrors on the heaving main;
Howling terrific in the murd'rous gale;
To scare the Mariner, and rend his bellying sail;
Rebut him, way-worn, from the port of Ease,
And hurl him backward through the roaring seas;
While love-lorn Mary, looks with tearful eyes,
And pitying William, freights the wind with sighs!—
When the Balanæ revel in the floods;
When the gaunt wolf wakes Echo in the woods,
And bays the silver Regent of the night,
Who glitters through the concave of the sight!
When Seamen shiver at the hollow blast,
While the snow gathers round the thick'ning mast—
When Bacchanals uplift the slowing bowl,
To elevate the functions of the soul;
Thaw the cold juices of the gelid breast;
And welcome tipsy Revelry, and Jest.—
When Gossips huddle near the crackling fire,
To prate of Ghosts and incantations dire:
How Witches blight the harvest as they list,
And ride on besoms, through the clammy mist;
Of Wizards' talismans, and ills they wrought,
Till the Sense fears the image of the Thought!
When the keen sleet makes puny Travellers sigh—
When wild geese scream, erratic, through the sky—
When Farmers, for their kine, break up the brook—
When Crickets chirrup from the smoky nook—
When the Vermonter yokes his wheelless cart,
And scuds, with ven'son, down to Boston mart:
When, round the blazing hearth gay groupes incline,
To munch their shag-barks and to mull their wine:
When the North Gale, in whistling wrath, appears,
And bites the selvidges of Yankey ears:
When the vast hills are whiten'd o'er with snow—
When Graziers sled their ricks from fens below—
When Darkness circumscribes the cheerless day—
When Fishes wriggle from the snow-fraught bay—
When viscid Serpents burrow'd, in a heap,
In intersecting curves, fraternal sleep:
When bell-deck'd horses draw the rapid sleigh,
O'er beds of ice (beneath pale Cynthia's ray)
To Pleasure's midnight haunts, where Beauty throws
Her fears aside, and dances, sips and glows!
When shrinking Toil, collapsing in the air,
Lights his segar and puffs away despair—
When Strength perceives the issue of his breath—
When bank-lodg'd Swallows doze in demi-death—
When Matrons knit their husbands' fleecy hose—
When mucus dribbles from the frost-night nose!
In that inclement hour, when Day grew blind,
And Somnus throws narcotics to mankind:
Clogg'd with the poppies of Lethean sleep,
The Faction slumber'd and forgot to—weep!
Each hand withheld from throwing Fortune's dice,
Respite from misery, and woe and vice:
The ides of March the fourth were all forgot,
And their what was, absorb'd in—what is not!
Gaunt Envy ceas'd, immortal men to hoot,
And even Slander's foamy tongue was mute.
The bright stars twinkled in the vaulted sky;
Responsive Hogs, were grunting in the sty;
The bark lay torpid on the azure wave;
The winds were hush'd in th'Æolian cave;
The Gossamer was chain'd, and all at rest,
Except the Cyprian boy in Chloe's breast.
(Led by the Paphian Boy's imperious nod)
Sunk, neath th'horizon, arm'd with am'rous fires,
His magic song, announcing his desires:
To clasp his Thetis to his burning breast;
Leaving a sordid hemisphere to rest;
Amid th'inclement rulers of the hour—
When Winter's icy minions urge their pow'r—
In that dread Season, when the saline force,
Congeals the Baltic and arrests its course:
When savage Boreas begins his reign,
And pours his terrors on the heaving main;
Howling terrific in the murd'rous gale;
To scare the Mariner, and rend his bellying sail;
66
And hurl him backward through the roaring seas;
While love-lorn Mary, looks with tearful eyes,
And pitying William, freights the wind with sighs!—
When the Balanæ revel in the floods;
When the gaunt wolf wakes Echo in the woods,
And bays the silver Regent of the night,
Who glitters through the concave of the sight!
When Seamen shiver at the hollow blast,
While the snow gathers round the thick'ning mast—
When Bacchanals uplift the slowing bowl,
To elevate the functions of the soul;
Thaw the cold juices of the gelid breast;
And welcome tipsy Revelry, and Jest.—
67
To prate of Ghosts and incantations dire:
How Witches blight the harvest as they list,
And ride on besoms, through the clammy mist;
Of Wizards' talismans, and ills they wrought,
Till the Sense fears the image of the Thought!
When the keen sleet makes puny Travellers sigh—
When wild geese scream, erratic, through the sky—
When Farmers, for their kine, break up the brook—
When Crickets chirrup from the smoky nook—
When the Vermonter yokes his wheelless cart,
And scuds, with ven'son, down to Boston mart:
When, round the blazing hearth gay groupes incline,
To munch their shag-barks and to mull their wine:
68
And bites the selvidges of Yankey ears:
When the vast hills are whiten'd o'er with snow—
When Graziers sled their ricks from fens below—
When Darkness circumscribes the cheerless day—
When Fishes wriggle from the snow-fraught bay—
When viscid Serpents burrow'd, in a heap,
In intersecting curves, fraternal sleep:
When bell-deck'd horses draw the rapid sleigh,
O'er beds of ice (beneath pale Cynthia's ray)
To Pleasure's midnight haunts, where Beauty throws
Her fears aside, and dances, sips and glows!
When shrinking Toil, collapsing in the air,
Lights his segar and puffs away despair—
69
When bank-lodg'd Swallows doze in demi-death—
When Matrons knit their husbands' fleecy hose—
When mucus dribbles from the frost-night nose!
In that inclement hour, when Day grew blind,
And Somnus throws narcotics to mankind:
Clogg'd with the poppies of Lethean sleep,
The Faction slumber'd and forgot to—weep!
Each hand withheld from throwing Fortune's dice,
Respite from misery, and woe and vice:
The ides of March the fourth were all forgot,
And their what was, absorb'd in—what is not!
Gaunt Envy ceas'd, immortal men to hoot,
And even Slander's foamy tongue was mute.
70
Responsive Hogs, were grunting in the sty;
The bark lay torpid on the azure wave;
The winds were hush'd in th'Æolian cave;
The Gossamer was chain'd, and all at rest,
Except the Cyprian boy in Chloe's breast.
At length, the Demon, leagu'd with Hate and Care,
Touch'd each, in turn, and call'd him to Despair:
With shudd'ring sympathy, and op'ning claws,
The Band uprose, in a Tartarean noise,
With ennui yawning, till they crack'd their jaws!
They cast, in ire, their glaring eye-balls round,
And scowl'd, and scar'd, and shrugg'd, and moan'd and frown'd:
With cank'ring fangs, all grinding to molest,
They humm'd, like Hornets, brav'd within their nest.
Some shriek'd their woe in alt, while some were harsh;
And croak'd, like Bull-frogs, in the dismal marsh:
Some, of vast bulk, lay poison'd by Ill's leaven,
Like prostrate Titans, who'd offended Heaven:
They saw Perdition's gulph, black, deep and foul,
Till the pain'd Sight brought terror to the Soul;
Some, with burst hearts, hung pensive o'er their knees;
While others felt them shrivell'd into peas:
Many sat couchant on their quiv'ring hams,
Entranc'd with apathy, and cold as clams.
Some perch'd, presumptuous, mid the Tory train,
Blackguards in thought and act, and blood and grain:
Prompt or to swear, or lie, or stab or run,
And unroof Chapels, in the noon-day Sun:
Miscreants who'd fatten in immoral wars,
Who'd tear the Decalogue to light segars:
Who'd wade in carnage, for a demi—price,
Minions of Guilt, and pioneers of Vice.
Fed pounc'd on Fed, and brother taunted brother,
Spitting, like roasting apples, at each other;
'Twas you're half Democrat, with freedom cramm'd;
And you, are trimming, Sir, and you be d---d!
Touch'd each, in turn, and call'd him to Despair:
With shudd'ring sympathy, and op'ning claws,
The Band uprose, in a Tartarean noise,
With ennui yawning, till they crack'd their jaws!
They cast, in ire, their glaring eye-balls round,
And scowl'd, and scar'd, and shrugg'd, and moan'd and frown'd:
71
They humm'd, like Hornets, brav'd within their nest.
Some shriek'd their woe in alt, while some were harsh;
And croak'd, like Bull-frogs, in the dismal marsh:
Some, of vast bulk, lay poison'd by Ill's leaven,
Like prostrate Titans, who'd offended Heaven:
They saw Perdition's gulph, black, deep and foul,
Till the pain'd Sight brought terror to the Soul;
Some, with burst hearts, hung pensive o'er their knees;
While others felt them shrivell'd into peas:
Many sat couchant on their quiv'ring hams,
Entranc'd with apathy, and cold as clams.
Some perch'd, presumptuous, mid the Tory train,
Blackguards in thought and act, and blood and grain:
Prompt or to swear, or lie, or stab or run,
And unroof Chapels, in the noon-day Sun:
72
Who'd tear the Decalogue to light segars:
Who'd wade in carnage, for a demi—price,
Minions of Guilt, and pioneers of Vice.
Fed pounc'd on Fed, and brother taunted brother,
Spitting, like roasting apples, at each other;
'Twas you're half Democrat, with freedom cramm'd;
And you, are trimming, Sir, and you be d---d!
Tim P---g thus, in irregular strains,
Slaver'd out his resentment and pictur'd his pains:
Take the Sun and the Moon from the day and the night,
Draw the Earth's massy linch-pin—Abolish Delight:
Should the Fish cleave the seas, or Birds chirp in the air,
While M---n sills my official chair?
Thence I batter'd at Freedom, with Pitt for my guide,
While L---st---n and H---m---n flank'd on each side;
There we plann'd social ills that admit of no cure,
And made poor struggling France, a vile caricature;
Rais'd taxes and armies to coax and alarm,
And with rank Tory pus touch'd the Federal arm;
Strove to sneer down all good, and were riding post haste,
When the thunders of God, laid our infamy waste;
Awful Justice uprose, and surveying the evil,
Kick'd our factious Cabal, and their plots to the Devil!
Now I feel as perturbed as tides 'neath the Moon,
Or a Dollar ramm'd down, for a voyage to Canton:
Or an Iberian Bull in the murderous ring:
Or Love in the suds, or a Pig in a string:
Or a Knave with the stripes of a stern, civic whipper,
Or a Cod on the hook of a Marblehead skipper.
Wisdom's render'd the halters of Cruelty nooseless:
Now, like Cats in new buildings, our talons are useless:
Some are sick—some cashier'd and from duty exempt,
Or hung up, like torn Coats, on the pegs of Contempt!
Slaver'd out his resentment and pictur'd his pains:
Take the Sun and the Moon from the day and the night,
Draw the Earth's massy linch-pin—Abolish Delight:
Should the Fish cleave the seas, or Birds chirp in the air,
While M---n sills my official chair?
73
While L---st---n and H---m---n flank'd on each side;
There we plann'd social ills that admit of no cure,
And made poor struggling France, a vile caricature;
Rais'd taxes and armies to coax and alarm,
And with rank Tory pus touch'd the Federal arm;
Strove to sneer down all good, and were riding post haste,
When the thunders of God, laid our infamy waste;
Awful Justice uprose, and surveying the evil,
Kick'd our factious Cabal, and their plots to the Devil!
Now I feel as perturbed as tides 'neath the Moon,
Or a Dollar ramm'd down, for a voyage to Canton:
Or an Iberian Bull in the murderous ring:
Or Love in the suds, or a Pig in a string:
74
Or a Cod on the hook of a Marblehead skipper.
Wisdom's render'd the halters of Cruelty nooseless:
Now, like Cats in new buildings, our talons are useless:
Some are sick—some cashier'd and from duty exempt,
Or hung up, like torn Coats, on the pegs of Contempt!
With a sing'd paw, like Folly's ductile Cat,
The beardless Star-Gazer of S---d sat;
Hammering Lies!—Like Vulcan at his sire,
Begrim'd with silth, and reeking with his ire:
More subtle Catilines, in shade, behind,
Fed the hot forge, or rais'd th'inflaming wind!
He'd fashion'd the tenth Lie, with skill profound,
When Hell's infernal Tenants, crawl'd around;
In horrid extacy they said, or sung;
Can one so mischievous, be yet so young?
Be this a Fete d'enfer, grim Moloch, howls;
Let Io Pæan, charge Perdition's Souls;
'Twixt Sin & Shame, a new-fledg'd Crime is trac'd:
'Tis H---lb---t---m, first in order plac'd:
The old Enormities are all disgrac'd.
Be it the theme of fell Tartarean lays:
The Machiavelian Spirit gives it praise!
The beardless Star-Gazer of S---d sat;
Hammering Lies!—Like Vulcan at his sire,
Begrim'd with silth, and reeking with his ire:
More subtle Catilines, in shade, behind,
Fed the hot forge, or rais'd th'inflaming wind!
He'd fashion'd the tenth Lie, with skill profound,
When Hell's infernal Tenants, crawl'd around;
75
Can one so mischievous, be yet so young?
Be this a Fete d'enfer, grim Moloch, howls;
Let Io Pæan, charge Perdition's Souls;
'Twixt Sin & Shame, a new-fledg'd Crime is trac'd:
'Tis H---lb---t---m, first in order plac'd:
The old Enormities are all disgrac'd.
Be it the theme of fell Tartarean lays:
The Machiavelian Spirit gives it praise!
Lull'd from these scenes by Sleep's embalming care;
Then rous'd from Slumber's clutches by Despair;
The legal Prattler (fond of a debate)
View'd his burnt singers, and thus sigh'd to Fate.
Why am I now the shuttlecock of Life;
The point of Laughter, and the germ of Strife:
Why have you suffer'd, in the world's great mart,
Contempt to hold a mortgage on my heart?
'Tis not bar-practice, and deserves no fee;
If you say 'tis, come down and ask old The.
Why am I thus encumber'd with distress;
I'd make you justify, if you were less—
We've other Royalists more dire than me,
Who walk, on carpets, to eternity!
Lo! Draco sits a Tyrant and a Judge,
His tone, a menace, and his thought a grudge:
No kindly sympathies attune his age:
His pulses quick'ning only in—his rage!
O'er Freedom's sons, his aching eye-balls roll,
Hate, in his breast, and Treason in his soul;
So mean, he'll creep for favors, through the mire:
Then spurn the Dolt, that sated his desire.
The Furies hail him, as he chills the day,
And Terror stalks, before him, on his way:
A Slave, in principle—an active Flaw:
A Dog, 'mong worthies, and a Fiend, in law:
At Death's black portal the worn miscreant stands:
With fearful eyes, and parricidal hands:
While Wisdom's manacled, and Honor weeps,
He prates of equity, and says—he sleeps!!!
His blood-stain'd fangs made Desolation start:
And Mercy shudder'd, as she view'd his heart.
Then rous'd from Slumber's clutches by Despair;
The legal Prattler (fond of a debate)
View'd his burnt singers, and thus sigh'd to Fate.
Why am I now the shuttlecock of Life;
The point of Laughter, and the germ of Strife:
76
Contempt to hold a mortgage on my heart?
'Tis not bar-practice, and deserves no fee;
If you say 'tis, come down and ask old The.
Why am I thus encumber'd with distress;
I'd make you justify, if you were less—
We've other Royalists more dire than me,
Who walk, on carpets, to eternity!
Lo! Draco sits a Tyrant and a Judge,
His tone, a menace, and his thought a grudge:
No kindly sympathies attune his age:
His pulses quick'ning only in—his rage!
O'er Freedom's sons, his aching eye-balls roll,
Hate, in his breast, and Treason in his soul;
77
Then spurn the Dolt, that sated his desire.
The Furies hail him, as he chills the day,
And Terror stalks, before him, on his way:
A Slave, in principle—an active Flaw:
A Dog, 'mong worthies, and a Fiend, in law:
At Death's black portal the worn miscreant stands:
With fearful eyes, and parricidal hands:
While Wisdom's manacled, and Honor weeps,
He prates of equity, and says—he sleeps!!!
His blood-stain'd fangs made Desolation start:
And Mercy shudder'd, as she view'd his heart.
Demi-secluded from his fallen Peers,
Thus H. G. O. expressed his well-bred fears:
My Allies sicken—Baal is laid low,
And ev'ry month creates a new-fledg'd woe:
Were but their functions equal to their phlegm,
They'd run from me, who cannot run from them:
Each Caucus now, I reprobate and rue;
I'd start an alibi, but that won't do.
Mesh'd in the Fed'ral web, I'm leagu'd to work,
I've worn the crescent and must shield the Turk.
W—rr—n must drag each new-born Feud to light,
And I array them for statistic sight:
Disreputable toil of fell distress,
That's prais'd by few, and e'en that few gets less.
I'd publish, could I, and without a fee,
My nollem factum against Liberty!
Bring me Medea's kettle, plunge me in:
Ah, lave these royal speckles from my skin:
How small the error, when such ills commence!
How great the evil, in the consequence!
What's a palazzo, but the base of Care,
Unless Content sits jocund in our chair:
With sparkling vision blessing Reason's bowl,
And op'ning ev'ry alley of the Soul?—
Yet, though opposing modes may vex the hour,
I trust Urbanity will keep his pow'r;
To harmonize Ambition's ruthless song,
And lead resplendent Charity along.—
Say, shall the attributes of Peace be o'er?
Shall social blandishments be known no more?
Shall the prophane and vile, from Envy's den,
Stand on a parallel with radiant men?
Shall Rudeness execrate Wit's polish'd song,
Merely that blatant Rudeness dare be wrong?
Forbid, this harsh result to be endur'd:
In this kind aim, let Party be abjur'd—
A Gentleman's a being Gods inspire,
Beyond the vulgar, and of purer fire;
Reproving weaknesses by poignant sense,
Never offending—Slow to meet offence:
Either Minerva woos him to be kind:
One nerves his arm, the other nerves his mind:
Serenely firm he lifts his awful crest,
And Beauty nestles in his ample breast:
Giving disdain to each unhallow'd fear;
In action, noble—In expression, clear:
By Delicacy's mandate taught and rais'd,
He smooths those ethics that the Schools have prais'd;
(Like the involving fluid of our earth,)
Throws a decorum round his spell-bound mirth,
That limits gladness with a pure controul,
And chains the effervescence of the Soul!
That, which in coarser spirits nurtures pride,
With him is dignity and ease allied—
Like the young May, mid issuing sweets, he rose—
His mien enhances what his heart bestows—
Love warms his pulses with a gen'rous fire,
While Science sheathes the fury of desire!—
He thinks of man, as those who've frailties ought,
And his chaste language dulcifies that thought—
Calm Pleasure breathes her influence o'er his day,
And Virtue hails the moral of his lay:
A Christian hero, and the foe of Strife,
The slave of Honor and the grace of life!—
The wiles of Policy should ne'er efface
That cheap suavity man owes his race;
Electric charm, that keeps the Passions even,
And gilds our antics, till we soar to Heaven!
Thus H. G. O. expressed his well-bred fears:
78
And ev'ry month creates a new-fledg'd woe:
Were but their functions equal to their phlegm,
They'd run from me, who cannot run from them:
Each Caucus now, I reprobate and rue;
I'd start an alibi, but that won't do.
Mesh'd in the Fed'ral web, I'm leagu'd to work,
I've worn the crescent and must shield the Turk.
W—rr—n must drag each new-born Feud to light,
And I array them for statistic sight:
Disreputable toil of fell distress,
That's prais'd by few, and e'en that few gets less.
I'd publish, could I, and without a fee,
My nollem factum against Liberty!
79
Ah, lave these royal speckles from my skin:
How small the error, when such ills commence!
How great the evil, in the consequence!
What's a palazzo, but the base of Care,
Unless Content sits jocund in our chair:
With sparkling vision blessing Reason's bowl,
And op'ning ev'ry alley of the Soul?—
Yet, though opposing modes may vex the hour,
I trust Urbanity will keep his pow'r;
To harmonize Ambition's ruthless song,
And lead resplendent Charity along.—
Say, shall the attributes of Peace be o'er?
Shall social blandishments be known no more?
80
Stand on a parallel with radiant men?
Shall Rudeness execrate Wit's polish'd song,
Merely that blatant Rudeness dare be wrong?
Forbid, this harsh result to be endur'd:
In this kind aim, let Party be abjur'd—
A Gentleman's a being Gods inspire,
Beyond the vulgar, and of purer fire;
Reproving weaknesses by poignant sense,
Never offending—Slow to meet offence:
Either Minerva woos him to be kind:
One nerves his arm, the other nerves his mind:
Serenely firm he lifts his awful crest,
And Beauty nestles in his ample breast:
81
In action, noble—In expression, clear:
By Delicacy's mandate taught and rais'd,
He smooths those ethics that the Schools have prais'd;
(Like the involving fluid of our earth,)
Throws a decorum round his spell-bound mirth,
That limits gladness with a pure controul,
And chains the effervescence of the Soul!
That, which in coarser spirits nurtures pride,
With him is dignity and ease allied—
Like the young May, mid issuing sweets, he rose—
His mien enhances what his heart bestows—
Love warms his pulses with a gen'rous fire,
While Science sheathes the fury of desire!—
82
And his chaste language dulcifies that thought—
Calm Pleasure breathes her influence o'er his day,
And Virtue hails the moral of his lay:
A Christian hero, and the foe of Strife,
The slave of Honor and the grace of life!—
The wiles of Policy should ne'er efface
That cheap suavity man owes his race;
Electric charm, that keeps the Passions even,
And gilds our antics, till we soar to Heaven!
Like Marius peeping through Minturnian reeds,
Begrim'd, yet arrogant with daring deeds,
Crouch'd royal T---cy, behind Treason's bier,
Warming with hate, then shivering with fear:
A Factious ague, varying his woes;
Inflam'd at noon-tide, and at midnight froze!
Thus the man murmur'd:—Fortune, pest of Hell,
Inconstant wench—Ah! Horace knew thee well,
I'll snatch the bandage from thy darken'd eyes:
Look at thy Slave!—be kind—for once, be wise:
If there is truth in Sallust, Catiline
Was but a partial sacrifice of thine—
Survey my royal friends, thou potent witch:
Some demi-damn'd, while some are in a ditch:
Our immature Noblesse, from Reason scud,
Wriggling, like Tadpoles, through a stagnant mud:
Lo, where his Grace of Br---e, maudlin sits,
Dead to young Joy,—A bankrupt in his wits:
Monarchic Raven!—Cause, without effect;
Like prophet Brothers, he's outliv'd his sect—
Laid up in ord'nary, behold his Trunk,
Gnaw'd by Care's worms, tho' caulk'd with British junk.
His topmast struck—His timbers all bespoke—
His cable shorten'd, and his anchor broke:
Like Attic portals, by the Gazer seen,
His ruin merely proving he has been!—
Begrim'd, yet arrogant with daring deeds,
Crouch'd royal T---cy, behind Treason's bier,
Warming with hate, then shivering with fear:
83
Inflam'd at noon-tide, and at midnight froze!
Thus the man murmur'd:—Fortune, pest of Hell,
Inconstant wench—Ah! Horace knew thee well,
I'll snatch the bandage from thy darken'd eyes:
Look at thy Slave!—be kind—for once, be wise:
If there is truth in Sallust, Catiline
Was but a partial sacrifice of thine—
Survey my royal friends, thou potent witch:
Some demi-damn'd, while some are in a ditch:
Our immature Noblesse, from Reason scud,
Wriggling, like Tadpoles, through a stagnant mud:
Lo, where his Grace of Br---e, maudlin sits,
Dead to young Joy,—A bankrupt in his wits:
84
Like prophet Brothers, he's outliv'd his sect—
Laid up in ord'nary, behold his Trunk,
Gnaw'd by Care's worms, tho' caulk'd with British junk.
His topmast struck—His timbers all bespoke—
His cable shorten'd, and his anchor broke:
Like Attic portals, by the Gazer seen,
His ruin merely proving he has been!—
When Sandy shiver'd him, ambition scowl'd;
Folly was jubilant and Treason howl'd:
Then mammoth Jefferson rose up to pow'r:
Truth rear'd her crest, and Schism moan'd our hour!
Our Faction's awe-struck—Guilt has done his part:
Th'arterial blood is banish'd from the heart,
The G---w---ds weep and doze, but cannot think:
And Tim, his Holiness, is lost in drink:
Folly was jubilant and Treason howl'd:
Then mammoth Jefferson rose up to pow'r:
Truth rear'd her crest, and Schism moan'd our hour!
Our Faction's awe-struck—Guilt has done his part:
Th'arterial blood is banish'd from the heart,
85
And Tim, his Holiness, is lost in drink:
Boston, that royal hot-bed of the States,
Now sinks in grief—now menaces the Fates:
Ot---s, mellifluous Ot---s, cannot please:
His silver accents only charm the Breeze:
The flood is past, that fed our moon-drawn tide,
And Sorrow's ebb, reduces mortal pride.
Regard our minions perishing by scores;
The Party's offals rot on Freedom's shores!
Now sinks in grief—now menaces the Fates:
Ot---s, mellifluous Ot---s, cannot please:
His silver accents only charm the Breeze:
The flood is past, that fed our moon-drawn tide,
And Sorrow's ebb, reduces mortal pride.
Regard our minions perishing by scores;
The Party's offals rot on Freedom's shores!
The gentle G---rn---r, in tears came next,
Becloath'd in sables, sulky, sad and vext,
Eager to prattle—A meek, kindly soul;
In his right hand he flourish'd forth a scroll:
In imitation of the Conscript Sires;
Feeling their soppery, but not their fires;
A sign of eloquence, thus Art opines,
The inarticulate must deal in signs:
Making the obsequies of Death a joke,
(Ah! had he thought, as often as he spoke)
With air facetious neutraliz'd the gloom,
A very Petit maitre at the tomb!
Smirk'd, sigh'd and snivell'd to his Royal Clan,
Took his rappee, then hemm'd, and thus began.
Decking his verbiage in tinsel charms,
While Syntax frown'd in anger and in arms:—
“Go, Alex, mid the spirits of the brave,
While royal tears, embalm your royal grave:
Tulip of Federalism—germ of Pride;
By Britain bolster'd, and to Grace allied;
Inform me, by next post (to ease my woe)
If there's an Aristocracy below!—
Don't peep above thy bourn, my splendid friend,
New England's gone—our treason's at an end:
Nor Bank-civilities—nor English gold,
Could bribe the Yankeys—They will not be sold:
The Priest is muzzled and the Dolt's in dread:
The Monk is mute, and Fisher's gone to bed!
E'en hacknied C---lc---n's breast pumps up a sigh:
And begs forgiveness as he pens the lie!
Becloath'd in sables, sulky, sad and vext,
Eager to prattle—A meek, kindly soul;
In his right hand he flourish'd forth a scroll:
86
Feeling their soppery, but not their fires;
A sign of eloquence, thus Art opines,
The inarticulate must deal in signs:
Making the obsequies of Death a joke,
(Ah! had he thought, as often as he spoke)
With air facetious neutraliz'd the gloom,
A very Petit maitre at the tomb!
Smirk'd, sigh'd and snivell'd to his Royal Clan,
Took his rappee, then hemm'd, and thus began.
Decking his verbiage in tinsel charms,
While Syntax frown'd in anger and in arms:—
“Go, Alex, mid the spirits of the brave,
While royal tears, embalm your royal grave:
87
By Britain bolster'd, and to Grace allied;
Inform me, by next post (to ease my woe)
If there's an Aristocracy below!—
Don't peep above thy bourn, my splendid friend,
New England's gone—our treason's at an end:
Nor Bank-civilities—nor English gold,
Could bribe the Yankeys—They will not be sold:
The Priest is muzzled and the Dolt's in dread:
The Monk is mute, and Fisher's gone to bed!
E'en hacknied C---lc---n's breast pumps up a sigh:
And begs forgiveness as he pens the lie!
Like foul Arachne, savage, lean and dire,
Coils Anglo-D---nn---e, pregnant with his ire:
Th'impoison'd web in which he spits and crawls,
Extends from Delaware to James's walls:
Whence Pitt electrifies his Reptile's blood,
And gives him impetus to murder good!
Transfuses venom cross the troublous deep,
While all the Muses stare, and wond'ring weep:
Why am I thus? the snivelling Bardling cries:
(Ah why! Parnassus' echo, shrill replies:)
Those Gods are false in whom I put my trust;
P---ck---g's craz'd, and Hamilton is dust:
J---y's in his second childhood—R---ss is nought:
And Ch---se is wasting in obtrusive thought:
I've made the institutes of Right a jest:
I've strew'd vile fæces o'er my natal nest:
I've stain'd that honor which upheld my youth;
I've varnish'd Sophistry and slaughter'd Truth.
He had said more....but Reason in affright,
Call'd Shame to sweep him in eternal night!
Oblivion bring thy thickest blanket here:
Send Ocean's pail to catch this gushing tear:
Give me the Doldrums—marry me to Strife:
Abridge my pangs and antedate my life:
Our Faction once, amaz'd the sense of man,
Like proud Palmyra, ere its woes began.
What are we now? The intimates of Scorn,
Mere dust and ashes, trodden and forlorn!
How careless mortals scud from day to day,
Nearing their ruin—miserably gay:
Swilling pestif'rous draughts from Circe's cup—
Sucking, like amber, worthless gew-gaws up—
Growing more vile, by each succeeding feat—
Strap me to Neptune's car and bathe me sweet;
Why are we heard, but voluble in groans?
Mad in our deed—The virus in our bones—
The Devil take Deucalion and his stones.
Coils Anglo-D---nn---e, pregnant with his ire:
88
Extends from Delaware to James's walls:
Whence Pitt electrifies his Reptile's blood,
And gives him impetus to murder good!
Transfuses venom cross the troublous deep,
While all the Muses stare, and wond'ring weep:
Why am I thus? the snivelling Bardling cries:
(Ah why! Parnassus' echo, shrill replies:)
Those Gods are false in whom I put my trust;
P---ck---g's craz'd, and Hamilton is dust:
J---y's in his second childhood—R---ss is nought:
And Ch---se is wasting in obtrusive thought:
I've made the institutes of Right a jest:
I've strew'd vile fæces o'er my natal nest:
89
I've varnish'd Sophistry and slaughter'd Truth.
He had said more....but Reason in affright,
Call'd Shame to sweep him in eternal night!
Oblivion bring thy thickest blanket here:
Send Ocean's pail to catch this gushing tear:
Give me the Doldrums—marry me to Strife:
Abridge my pangs and antedate my life:
Our Faction once, amaz'd the sense of man,
Like proud Palmyra, ere its woes began.
What are we now? The intimates of Scorn,
Mere dust and ashes, trodden and forlorn!
How careless mortals scud from day to day,
Nearing their ruin—miserably gay:
90
Sucking, like amber, worthless gew-gaws up—
Growing more vile, by each succeeding feat—
Strap me to Neptune's car and bathe me sweet;
Why are we heard, but voluble in groans?
Mad in our deed—The virus in our bones—
The Devil take Deucalion and his stones.
Then J---y began, in moralizing strains,
And thus pourtray'd the circle of his pains:
With retrospective horror, wild and hot,
He spit enigmas, thick as Preble's shot.
Pride warms that breast, which Reason should have cool'd:
I rul'd a State, but now alas, am rul'd:
The Bible, which I read (a long time past)
Makes the last first, and then the first, makes last:
That which was, what is it? shew,
That which it was, it is not now!
To be what 'tis, is not to be, you see:
That which is not, shall yet a being be!
All Nature's in a dance, at Ruin's rout,
Where some cut in the jig, while some—cut out!
Should these salt drops roll down my cheek, by scores,
Who's breath'd in Courts—Who's op'd St. James' doors,
And supp'd with Honorable—sons of w---s?
Whom Grenville took so often by the sist:
Who Kings have prais'd and Countesses have kist?
Who sign'd a cov'nant that had ne'er been read,
And sold our rights to prove myself—well-bred.—
There's L---s, chair'd, our point of gubernation:
And Liberty has nail'd him to the station:
For Delicacy's stage he ne'er was book'd—
Like a ship's elbow, knotty, hard and crook'd,
He binds the flimsy scantlings by his toughness;
And draws his vulgar value, from his roughness:
While I, the pink of kindness, roam, at large,
He banquets daily at the public charge!—
My heart gets less and less—my ills increase:
Coerce my Torments—Bid my Sorrows cease:
Transform me into hose, to smoke and rot
Round rancid feet, when Summer's suns are hot:
Fix me, like Turkies, to some ice-bound spot,
That Dolts may shoot me, for six cents a shot:
Make me a rudder, in the eastern seas,
For Lubber's paws, to misdirect and teaze:
My hour-glass lags—My occupation's gone:
What once was day, is now a dies non!
And thus pourtray'd the circle of his pains:
With retrospective horror, wild and hot,
He spit enigmas, thick as Preble's shot.
Pride warms that breast, which Reason should have cool'd:
I rul'd a State, but now alas, am rul'd:
91
Makes the last first, and then the first, makes last:
That which was, what is it? shew,
That which it was, it is not now!
To be what 'tis, is not to be, you see:
That which is not, shall yet a being be!
All Nature's in a dance, at Ruin's rout,
Where some cut in the jig, while some—cut out!
Should these salt drops roll down my cheek, by scores,
Who's breath'd in Courts—Who's op'd St. James' doors,
And supp'd with Honorable—sons of w---s?
Whom Grenville took so often by the sist:
Who Kings have prais'd and Countesses have kist?
92
And sold our rights to prove myself—well-bred.—
There's L---s, chair'd, our point of gubernation:
And Liberty has nail'd him to the station:
For Delicacy's stage he ne'er was book'd—
Like a ship's elbow, knotty, hard and crook'd,
He binds the flimsy scantlings by his toughness;
And draws his vulgar value, from his roughness:
While I, the pink of kindness, roam, at large,
He banquets daily at the public charge!—
My heart gets less and less—my ills increase:
Coerce my Torments—Bid my Sorrows cease:
Transform me into hose, to smoke and rot
Round rancid feet, when Summer's suns are hot:
93
That Dolts may shoot me, for six cents a shot:
Make me a rudder, in the eastern seas,
For Lubber's paws, to misdirect and teaze:
My hour-glass lags—My occupation's gone:
What once was day, is now a dies non!
Hear Ell---t chatter, like a peevish Pie;
Though all his argument is, I, I, I!
He seems t'insinuate good as in despite,
A Pye-bald Patriot, neither black nor white!
Though all his argument is, I, I, I!
He seems t'insinuate good as in despite,
A Pye-bald Patriot, neither black nor white!
Hark! 'tis the recreant Monk—“Plagues mark that hour,
When I was tainted with a lust of pow'r:
Tie Liberty upon the rack of Wrath—
Go deluge Jefferson, with Fed'ral froth—
Each eye-ball now is starting from its sphere:
“Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here.”
Now all's hypocrisy!—'Tis Rudeness braves,
And morals suffer most from pious knaves:
Who is good-natur'd in his social deeds?
Not him who fattens, but the Dolt who bleeds!
Men rail at duels, with self-saving sneers,
And wrap their cowardice in christian fears!
When I was tainted with a lust of pow'r:
Tie Liberty upon the rack of Wrath—
Go deluge Jefferson, with Fed'ral froth—
94
“Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here.”
Now all's hypocrisy!—'Tis Rudeness braves,
And morals suffer most from pious knaves:
Who is good-natur'd in his social deeds?
Not him who fattens, but the Dolt who bleeds!
Men rail at duels, with self-saving sneers,
And wrap their cowardice in christian fears!
Th'uncrested P---ck---y, marvellous and wan,
In elegiac tone his ills began,
Like the sad accents of a dying swan!
How man, in goodness, should his time employ—
How frail's the tenure of a Faction's joy!—
Not twenty moons ago our Party's chain,
Ran, link in link, from Georgia into Maine:
While Hamilton, with necromancy warm,
Issued from central York, the apt alarm;
To freight, with royal spells, our iron charm.
Then in big bulk, we flounder'd, at our ease,
As the Leviathan deforms the seas;
In one vast compact body, firm we lay,
Like icy masses in the frozen bay;
Impeding the free commerce of the land,
Condens'd, though hideous—terrible, though grand:
At length the radiant force of Virtue gleam'd,
Darted her fires and thaw'd us, as she beam'd:
Till a deep crash, like Ruin's mandate rose,
Marking our dissolution, and our woes;
The tide of Reason undermin'd our state,
Till its full influence had fix'd our fate:
Our fragments, then upheav'd from Treason's mud,
In wild despondence floated down the flood;
Unpatroniz'd and vagrant, torn from power;
Melting tow'rds nothingness, in every hour!
Oh miserable man! thus vain to be;
“Seeing, what I have seen, seeing what I see.”
How streams of Misery shove us to Despair:
My ills, last week, would make a Stoic swear—
Last Monday night, I lost my Steed!
Virginia has no better breed:
Last Tuesday night, I lost my Cousin:
Now Death has all—I had a dozen!
Last We'nsday night—I lost my Brother!
Fate cannot send me—such another.
Last Thursday night, my Mistress died:
No Co. have I!—I should have cried:
Last Friday night, I lost my credit;
(The British Faction made and fed it):
Last Saturday, I lost my Friend,
My anguish ne'er will have an end!
Last Sunday night, I lost my wits,
And now I weep and laugh, by sits:
Can any have misfortunes worse?
I'm really sorry for—my Horse!
In elegiac tone his ills began,
Like the sad accents of a dying swan!
How man, in goodness, should his time employ—
How frail's the tenure of a Faction's joy!—
Not twenty moons ago our Party's chain,
Ran, link in link, from Georgia into Maine:
95
Issued from central York, the apt alarm;
To freight, with royal spells, our iron charm.
Then in big bulk, we flounder'd, at our ease,
As the Leviathan deforms the seas;
In one vast compact body, firm we lay,
Like icy masses in the frozen bay;
Impeding the free commerce of the land,
Condens'd, though hideous—terrible, though grand:
At length the radiant force of Virtue gleam'd,
Darted her fires and thaw'd us, as she beam'd:
Till a deep crash, like Ruin's mandate rose,
Marking our dissolution, and our woes;
The tide of Reason undermin'd our state,
Till its full influence had fix'd our fate:
96
In wild despondence floated down the flood;
Unpatroniz'd and vagrant, torn from power;
Melting tow'rds nothingness, in every hour!
Oh miserable man! thus vain to be;
“Seeing, what I have seen, seeing what I see.”
How streams of Misery shove us to Despair:
My ills, last week, would make a Stoic swear—
Last Monday night, I lost my Steed!
Virginia has no better breed:
Last Tuesday night, I lost my Cousin:
Now Death has all—I had a dozen!
Last We'nsday night—I lost my Brother!
Fate cannot send me—such another.
97
No Co. have I!—I should have cried:
Last Friday night, I lost my credit;
(The British Faction made and fed it):
Last Saturday, I lost my Friend,
My anguish ne'er will have an end!
Last Sunday night, I lost my wits,
And now I weep and laugh, by sits:
Can any have misfortunes worse?
I'm really sorry for—my Horse!
Connecticut's high Pope, and royal guide,
With a smear'd manual lying by his side:
His keen eyes dimm'd with Sorrow's salted stream,
First kick'd his wig, and then began his theme.
(While abject Noah, dying by degrees,
Peep'd through the outer key-hole, on his knees.)
Ere the Tiara, mock'd me, in a vision;
Ere I became the point of men's derision:
In artless minstrelsy I pass'd my youth,
And sung of Canaan, and the age of Truth;
When tribes in heaven and honor plac'd their trust;
When Priests were poor, and even Jews were just!
In my adolescence, like some coy maid,
Of man, but more of Flattery afraid;
In deeds of innocence I pass'd my days;
At Guilt I trembled, and I blush'd at praise;
In holy maidenhood I meekly grew,
Eschewing Satan and his flaunting crew—
Ere lust of pow'r had made me sick and vain;
Ere Pride had warp'd the timbers of my brain:
And led me, like a vig'rous ram, to be
Select and branded with a huge D. D.—
Where is our Royal Faction:—who can tell?
Maim'd in Contempt's incurable Hotel!
The Deadly Seven, who held this State in fetters,
By Sin are spotted o'er, like Pests in tetters:
Truth holds them down to answer for her woes,
As Dunstan held the Devil by the nose!—
All---n is bilious—Sm---th is in a trance,
And curst St. Vitus teaches B---ce to dance.
Ed---m---ds is dwindling with a cholera morbis;
And D---gg---t's sent to York for Doctor Forbes:
Our plots 'gainst human rights have been unravell'd;
And both the G---ch---s are sorely gravell'd—
I, who was mounting up Ambition's sky,
The great High Priest of every thing that's high:
Like an immense Balloon, admir'd and rare,
Till Abr'am smote the flatulent affair,
Open'd the valve and let out all the air!
Damn'd may he be, for this unhallow'd deed;
Let no church welcome him, or eke his seed:
May all deny him bev'rage in his thirst;
Be he by man and magistrate accurst:
Emasculate him and unstring his reins:
Hide the catholicon when he complains;
Monks heap hot coals upon the Casuist's head,
And u---e, on his ashes, when he's dead.
With a smear'd manual lying by his side:
His keen eyes dimm'd with Sorrow's salted stream,
First kick'd his wig, and then began his theme.
98
Peep'd through the outer key-hole, on his knees.)
Ere the Tiara, mock'd me, in a vision;
Ere I became the point of men's derision:
In artless minstrelsy I pass'd my youth,
And sung of Canaan, and the age of Truth;
When tribes in heaven and honor plac'd their trust;
When Priests were poor, and even Jews were just!
In my adolescence, like some coy maid,
Of man, but more of Flattery afraid;
In deeds of innocence I pass'd my days;
At Guilt I trembled, and I blush'd at praise;
In holy maidenhood I meekly grew,
Eschewing Satan and his flaunting crew—
99
Ere Pride had warp'd the timbers of my brain:
And led me, like a vig'rous ram, to be
Select and branded with a huge D. D.—
Where is our Royal Faction:—who can tell?
Maim'd in Contempt's incurable Hotel!
The Deadly Seven, who held this State in fetters,
By Sin are spotted o'er, like Pests in tetters:
Truth holds them down to answer for her woes,
As Dunstan held the Devil by the nose!—
All---n is bilious—Sm---th is in a trance,
And curst St. Vitus teaches B---ce to dance.
Ed---m---ds is dwindling with a cholera morbis;
And D---gg---t's sent to York for Doctor Forbes:
100
And both the G---ch---s are sorely gravell'd—
I, who was mounting up Ambition's sky,
The great High Priest of every thing that's high:
Like an immense Balloon, admir'd and rare,
Till Abr'am smote the flatulent affair,
Open'd the valve and let out all the air!
Damn'd may he be, for this unhallow'd deed;
Let no church welcome him, or eke his seed:
May all deny him bev'rage in his thirst;
Be he by man and magistrate accurst:
Emasculate him and unstring his reins:
Hide the catholicon when he complains;
Monks heap hot coals upon the Casuist's head,
And u---e, on his ashes, when he's dead.
101
Rapt in a reverie of sickly doubts,
Th'egregious E---t prattles, prates, and pouts;
With ambo-dexter rights and wrongs opprest,
The Incubus sits heavy on his breast;
With spleen and eccentricity accurst,
In plaintive numbers thus he swell'd and burst.
Like twilight gleams I glimmer on the sight,
Ling'ring towards day, but sinking into night:
To King or Freedom never to be fixt;
A Friend to neither, but a Thing betwixt;
A vocal Dipthong, true to neither house;
A Bat of Faction, neither bird nor mouse:
A vain Camelion, fraught with varying pow'r,
To take the tint which Folly gives the hour:
When, in presumptuous mood, I'm waxing hot,
Keen Randolph rakes me with an attic shot:
Then I exclaim, in Terror's dulcet tone,
Take me Dubiety, I'm all thy own—
Bear me, while breathing, from this dreaded fray:
Fold me in cotton for some safer day—
What's Virtue but a name?—we're all enslav'd:
Lo! the worn Vet'ran, begs of him he—sav'd!
I was not born to follow Reason's track;
I, when I please, take Wisdom's sails aback:
I, can teaze Pallas, on her mental throne;
In short, I'm, I—I am myself alone!
Th'egregious E---t prattles, prates, and pouts;
With ambo-dexter rights and wrongs opprest,
The Incubus sits heavy on his breast;
With spleen and eccentricity accurst,
In plaintive numbers thus he swell'd and burst.
Like twilight gleams I glimmer on the sight,
Ling'ring towards day, but sinking into night:
To King or Freedom never to be fixt;
A Friend to neither, but a Thing betwixt;
A vocal Dipthong, true to neither house;
A Bat of Faction, neither bird nor mouse:
A vain Camelion, fraught with varying pow'r,
To take the tint which Folly gives the hour:
When, in presumptuous mood, I'm waxing hot,
Keen Randolph rakes me with an attic shot:
102
Take me Dubiety, I'm all thy own—
Bear me, while breathing, from this dreaded fray:
Fold me in cotton for some safer day—
What's Virtue but a name?—we're all enslav'd:
Lo! the worn Vet'ran, begs of him he—sav'd!
103
I, when I please, take Wisdom's sails aback:
I, can teaze Pallas, on her mental throne;
In short, I'm, I—I am myself alone!
Then mouths, by myriads, bellow'd in the air,
In one dire burst of horrible despair:
The hideous yell of many tongues began,
To call on Pity, like a prostrate clan:
Thick as the miasm in the solar blaze;
Thick as the hands applaud, when Bernard plays;
Thick as glad mobs to see a storm-torn wreck:
Thick as March-wafted dust on Boston neck:
Thick as the questions in a crowded stage:
Thick as the curses from a Priest, in rage:
Thick as the insects flit in Ruin's flame:
Thick as the slanders float round Honor's name:
Thick as the rice-stalks in the damp savannah;
Thick as the Coxcombs buz round peerless Anna.
While the malignant Passions urg'd their slaves,
And Mercy frown'd upon the shudd'ring knaves.
So many bosom-rending, heart-drawn sighs;
Such tides of mis'ry issuing from the eyes:
Yet all for pride, and none for virtue given,
Provok'd the vengeance of observing Heaven:
Who breath'd, in ire, th'incontinent decree;
And bade their human powers cease to be.
Swift as Aurora's gleam pervades the sky—
Rapid as Malice bears th'envenom'd lie,
T'ingulph the fated virtuous in despair—
Fleet, as the livid Lightning cleaves the air:
A sweeping Metamorphosis ensu'd,
And chang'd the functions of the sniv'lling brood:
Reptiles and Animals, bore Dicks and Neds,
And shrunk (dishonor'd) with the souls of Feds!
Ell---t, the egotist, (of largess baulk'd)
Chang'd (not degraded) as a Magpie talk'd—
The belching Luther dwindled to a Leech,
And Park a Gnat upon Apollo's breech—
The Deadly Seven, who've pertinacious strove,
To shut Connecticut from social love:
Who stalk'd o'er Honor with tyrannic aims,
Smote the scarr'd Soldier, and effac'd his claims;
Were turn'd in rav'nous Sharks, to nurture pain,
And massacre weak Gudgeons in the main;
While, as their Pilot-fish, stern T---y rode
To snuff the scent, and lead them on to blood!
Huge E---y was transmuted to a Mouse:
Th'unmanner'd Beast of Groton, to—a Louse:
Ot---s, a Humming-Bird, on Daphne's tree,
And kingly Rufus to a fleur de Lis:
D---r, a lusus naturæ in growth,
Nor this, nor that, but something between both:
H---lb---t, a Parrot, Vanity had caught,
Prattling the obloquy, that Treason taught—
Coleman a watch-dog, Fallacy had gain'd,
Eager to bark and fond of—being chain'd—
Fezzy ('twas possible) became diminish'd
To a Musquito, and the labour finish'd!
The rest were damn'd, in heaps, to endless pain,
And Virtue took her station, once again!
In one dire burst of horrible despair:
The hideous yell of many tongues began,
To call on Pity, like a prostrate clan:
Thick as the miasm in the solar blaze;
Thick as the hands applaud, when Bernard plays;
Thick as glad mobs to see a storm-torn wreck:
Thick as March-wafted dust on Boston neck:
Thick as the questions in a crowded stage:
Thick as the curses from a Priest, in rage:
Thick as the insects flit in Ruin's flame:
Thick as the slanders float round Honor's name:
Thick as the rice-stalks in the damp savannah;
Thick as the Coxcombs buz round peerless Anna.
While the malignant Passions urg'd their slaves,
And Mercy frown'd upon the shudd'ring knaves.
So many bosom-rending, heart-drawn sighs;
Such tides of mis'ry issuing from the eyes:
Yet all for pride, and none for virtue given,
Provok'd the vengeance of observing Heaven:
Who breath'd, in ire, th'incontinent decree;
And bade their human powers cease to be.
Swift as Aurora's gleam pervades the sky—
Rapid as Malice bears th'envenom'd lie,
T'ingulph the fated virtuous in despair—
Fleet, as the livid Lightning cleaves the air:
A sweeping Metamorphosis ensu'd,
And chang'd the functions of the sniv'lling brood:
104
And shrunk (dishonor'd) with the souls of Feds!
Ell---t, the egotist, (of largess baulk'd)
Chang'd (not degraded) as a Magpie talk'd—
The belching Luther dwindled to a Leech,
And Park a Gnat upon Apollo's breech—
The Deadly Seven, who've pertinacious strove,
To shut Connecticut from social love:
Who stalk'd o'er Honor with tyrannic aims,
Smote the scarr'd Soldier, and effac'd his claims;
Were turn'd in rav'nous Sharks, to nurture pain,
And massacre weak Gudgeons in the main;
While, as their Pilot-fish, stern T---y rode
To snuff the scent, and lead them on to blood!
Huge E---y was transmuted to a Mouse:
Th'unmanner'd Beast of Groton, to—a Louse:
Ot---s, a Humming-Bird, on Daphne's tree,
And kingly Rufus to a fleur de Lis:
D---r, a lusus naturæ in growth,
Nor this, nor that, but something between both:
H---lb---t, a Parrot, Vanity had caught,
Prattling the obloquy, that Treason taught—
Coleman a watch-dog, Fallacy had gain'd,
Eager to bark and fond of—being chain'd—
Fezzy ('twas possible) became diminish'd
To a Musquito, and the labour finish'd!
The rest were damn'd, in heaps, to endless pain,
And Virtue took her station, once again!
Nox erat; et placidum carpebant sessa soporem
Corpora per terras; silvæque et sæva quierant
Æquora; cum medio volvuntur sidera lapsu;
Cum tacet omnis ager; pecudes, pictæque volucres,
Quæque lacus late liquidos, quæque aspera dumis
Rura tenent, somno positæ sub nocte silenti
Lenibant curas; et corda oblita laborum.
At non infelix animi Phænissa:
Corpora per terras; silvæque et sæva quierant
Æquora; cum medio volvuntur sidera lapsu;
Cum tacet omnis ager; pecudes, pictæque volucres,
Quæque lacus late liquidos, quæque aspera dumis
Rura tenent, somno positæ sub nocte silenti
Lenibant curas; et corda oblita laborum.
At non infelix animi Phænissa:
Virgil.
The VETERAN OF '76.
When the tyrants of Britain, with fury oppress'd us;
And the States shook with terror, our foes so distress'd us;
We girded our swords on, while Washington bless'd us,
And for this I have curses and rags for my ration:—Date obolum Belisario.
Ah! give a cent to a Soldier of the nation.
And the States shook with terror, our foes so distress'd us;
We girded our swords on, while Washington bless'd us,
And for this I have curses and rags for my ration:—Date obolum Belisario.
Ah! give a cent to a Soldier of the nation.
I drove the fierce legions from Lexington village,
With arms, forg'd with zeal, from the ploughshares for tillage;
Gave our Country to hope—sav'd your houses from pillage.
With arms, forg'd with zeal, from the ploughshares for tillage;
Gave our Country to hope—sav'd your houses from pillage.
At fam'd Bunker's Hill our best patriot's assembled,
And thunder'd our vengeance till Tyranny trembled
Then honor gave law, and none honor dissembled.
And thunder'd our vengeance till Tyranny trembled
Then honor gave law, and none honor dissembled.
At Monmouth, by day break, we all got in motion,
And spik'd up their cannon, and spoil'd their devotion;
While the Rivers, all blood stain'd, ran scar'd to the ocean.
And spik'd up their cannon, and spoil'd their devotion;
While the Rivers, all blood stain'd, ran scar'd to the ocean.
At fam'd Saratoga, we Burgoyne confounded,
Where even the Savage, look'd pale and astounded,
But we play'd Yankey Doodle and had them surrounded.
Where even the Savage, look'd pale and astounded,
But we play'd Yankey Doodle and had them surrounded.
At York Town, when France came, our rights to restore us.
We made stout Cornwallis, for quarter implore us,
While Tarlton and he laid their swords down before us,
We made stout Cornwallis, for quarter implore us,
While Tarlton and he laid their swords down before us,
I lost my right eye, in defending your glory:
I lost my firm leg, in destroying a Tory:
Then the air sung my praises, but that's an old story.
I lost my firm leg, in destroying a Tory:
Then the air sung my praises, but that's an old story.
Yonder Federal Lord who looks down so disdainful,
Got his wealth, like a knave, from our tickets so gainful:
But Oblivion step in, for that thought is too painful.
Got his wealth, like a knave, from our tickets so gainful:
But Oblivion step in, for that thought is too painful.
Are we born to do good, and that good to be hated?
Are we innately slaves, or with Liberty sated?
Why are heroes in trouble, by insolence bated?
Are we innately slaves, or with Liberty sated?
Why are heroes in trouble, by insolence bated?
What is man?—what are rights, but a thing and a dream, Sir?
What is joy, but a flash, o'er the mind, like a gleam, Sir?
Who'd believe that I was, who could see what I seem, Sir?
What is joy, but a flash, o'er the mind, like a gleam, Sir?
Who'd believe that I was, who could see what I seem, Sir?
With a heart that Ingratitude's cleft to the core, Sir,
With a spirit, that once you were proud to adore, Sir,
I must wander, an Outcast, from door unto door, Sir.
With a spirit, that once you were proud to adore, Sir,
I must wander, an Outcast, from door unto door, Sir.
Oh, my God! by whom all mortal woe is assuaged;
Who shelter'd the Lamb when fell cruelty raged;
Keep the pitiless storm from a head that's so aged;
For here I have curses and rags for my ration;—Date obolum Belisarie.
Ah give a cent to a Soldier of the nation!
Who shelter'd the Lamb when fell cruelty raged;
Keep the pitiless storm from a head that's so aged;
For here I have curses and rags for my ration;—Date obolum Belisarie.
Ah give a cent to a Soldier of the nation!
A. P.
THE FEDERAL EPITAPH.
We were well:
Would be better,
And here we are!
Would be better,
And here we are!
Heu, quam difficilis gloriæ custodia est!
Nosce Teipsum—.Bon soir, mon ami—Och hoan, och hoan!
Nosce Teipsum—.Bon soir, mon ami—Och hoan, och hoan!
| [The Hamiltoniad | |