The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 2 (of 3)Freneau, Philip Morin
General
The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 2 (of 3)
Freneau, Philip Morin
American poetry
In every vale she smiles serene,
Freedom's bright stars more radiant rise,
New charms she adds to every scene,
Her brighter sun illumes our skies;
Remotest realms admiring stand,
And hail the Hero of our land:
3
He comes!--the Genius of these lands--
Fame's thousand tongues his worth confess,
Who conquer'd with his suffering bands,
And grew immortal by distress:
Thus calms succeed the stormy blast,
And valour is repaid at last.
4
O Washington!--thrice glorious name,
What due rewards can man decree--
Empires are far below thy aim,
And sceptres have no charms for thee;
Virtue alone has thy regard,
And she must be thy great reward.
5
Encircled by extorted power,
Monarchs must envy thy Retreat,
Who cast, in some ill fated hour,
Their country's freedom at their feet;
'Twas thine to act a nobler part
For injur'd Freedom had thy heart.
6
For ravag'd realms and conquer'd seas
Rome gave the great imperial prize,
And, swell'd with pride, for feats like these,
Transferr'd her heroes to the skies:--
A brighter scene your deeds display,
You gain those heights a different way.
7
When Faction rear'd her snaky head,[250]
And join'd with tyrants to destroy,
Where'er you march'd the monster fled,
Tim'rous her arrows to employ;
Hosts catch'd from you a bolder flame,
And despots trembled at your name.
8
Ere war's dread horrors ceas'd to reign,
What leader could your place supply?--
Chiefs crowded to the embattled plain,
Prepar'd to conquer or to die--
Heroes arose--but none like you
Could save our lives and freedom too.
9
In swelling verse let kings be read,
And princes shine in polish'd prose;
Without such aid your triumphs spread
Where'er the convex ocean flows,
To Indian worlds by seas embrac'd,
And Tartar, tyrant of the waste.
10
Throughout the east you gain applause,
And soon the Old World, taught by you,
Shall blush to own her barbarous laws,
Shall learn instruction from the New:
Monarchs shall hear the humble plea,
Nor urge too far the proud decree.
11
Despising pomp and vain parade,
At home you stay, while France and Spain
The secret, ardent wish convey'd,
And hail'd you to their shores in vain:
In Vernon's groves you shun the throne,
Admir'd by kings, but seen by none.
12
Your fame, thus spread to distant lands,
May envy's fiercest blasts endure,
Like Egypt's pyramids it stands,
Built on a basis more secure;
Time's latest age shall own in you
The patriot and the statesman too.
13
Now hurrying from the busy scene,
Where thy Potowmack's waters flow,
May'st thou enjoy thy rural reign,
And every earthly blessing know;
Thus He[A] whom Rome's proud legions sway'd,
Return'd, and sought his sylvan shade.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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