[372] John Dickinson (1732-1808), a lawyer in Philadelphia, and a member of the Colonial Congress of 1765 and of the Continental Congress of 1774, first came into wide prominence in 1767 through the publication of his series of papers entitled "Letters from a Pennsylvania Farmer to the Inhabitants of the British Colonies." From this time until his death he was a vigorous and voluminous publicist. His influence upon his times was very great. The text of the poem is from the 1809 edition. PALEMON TO LAVINIA[373] [Written 1788] "Torn from your arms by rude relentless hands, No tears recall our lost Alcander home, Who, far removed by fierce piratic bands, Finds in a foreign soil[A] an early tomb: [A] Algiers, the piratical city on the coast of Barbary.--_Freneau's note._ Well may you grieve!--his race so early done, No years he reached, to urge some task sublime;-- No conquests made, no brilliant action won, No verse to bear him through the gulph of time. Amidst these shades and heart depressing glooms, What comfort shall we give--what can we say; In her distress shall we discourse on tombs, Or tell Lavinia, 'tis a cloudy day? The pensive priest accosts her with a sigh: With movement slow, in sable robes he came-- But why so sad, philosopher, ah, why, Since from the tomb alone all bliss we claim? By pining care and wakeful sorrow worn, While silent griefs her downcast heart engage, She saw me go, and saw me thrice return To pen my musings on some vacant page. To learning's store, to Galen's science bred, I saw Orestes rove through all the plain: His pensive step no friendly genius led To find one plant that might relieve your pain! Say, do I wake?--or are your woes a dream! Depart, dread vision!--waft me far away: Seek me no more by this sky painted stream That glides, unconscious, to the Indian bay. Alcander!--ah!--what tears for thee must flow-- What doom awaits the wretch that tortured thee! May never flower in his cursed garden blow, May never fruit enrich his hated tree: May that fine spark, which Nature lent to man, Reason, be thou extinguished in his brain; Sudden his doom, contracted be his span, Ne'er to exist, or spring from dust again. May no kind genius save his step from harms: Where'er he sails, may tempests rend the sea; May never maiden yield to him her charms, Nor prattling infant hang upon his knee! Retire, retire, forget the inhuman shore: Dark is the sun, when woes like these dismay; Resign your groves, and view with joy no more The fragrant orange, and the floweret gay." [373] First published in the 1795 edition. Text from the edition of 1809. A NEWSMAN'S ADDRESS[374]