The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 1 (of 3)Freneau, Philip Morin
General
The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 1 (of 3)
Freneau, Philip Morin
American poetry
_Columbus, solus_
Hail, beauteous land! the first that greets mine eye
Since, bold, we left the cloud capp'd Teneriffe,
The world's last limit long suppos'd by men.--
Tir'd with dull prospects of the watry waste
And midnight dangers that around us grew,
Faint hearts and feeble hands and traitors vile,
Thee, Holy Saviour, on this foreign land
We still adore, and name this coast from thee![A]
In these green groves who would not wish to stay,
Where guardian nature holds her quiet reign,
Where beardless men speak other languages,
Unknown to us, ourselves unknown to them.
[A] He called the island San Salvador (Holy Saviour). It
lies about ninety miles S.E. from Providence; is one of
the Bahama cluster, and to the eastward of the Grand
Bank.--_Freneau's note._
_Antonio_
In tracing o'er the isle no gold I find--
Nought else but barren trees and craggy rocks
Where screaming sea-fowl mix their odious loves,
And fields of burning marle, where devils play
And men with copper skins talk barbarously;--
What merit has our chief in sailing hither,
Discovering countries of no real worth!
Spain has enough of barren sands, no doubt,
And savages in crowds are found at home;--
Why then surmount the world's circumference
Merely to stock us with this Indian breed?
_Hernando_
Soft!--or Columbus will detect your murmuring--
This new found isle has re-instated him
In all our favours--see you yonder sands?--
Why, if you see them, swear that they are gold,
And gold like this shall be our homeward freight,
Gladding the heart of Ferdinand the great,
Who, when he sees it, shall say smilingly,
"Well done, advent'rous fellows, you have brought
"The treasure we expected and deserv'd!"--
Hold!--I am wrong--there goes a savage man
With gold suspended from his ragged ears:
I'll brain the monster for the sake of gold;
There, savage, try the power of Spanish steel--
'Tis of Toledo[B]--true and trusty stuff!
He falls! he falls! the gold, the gold is mine!
First acquisition in this golden isle!--
[B] The best steel-blades in Spain are manufactured at Toledo
and Bilboa.--_Freneau's note._
_Columbus, solus_
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