How oft has rugged nature charged my pen With gall, to shed it on that worst of men, Who, dumb to all that reason might decide, Mankind, their reason, and their prayers defy'd: Who, firm to all that phrenzy could pursue, Explored the ancient world, to chain the new; And tired the despot, search'd each dark recess, And ransack'd hell, to find the hireling hesse:-- Could he be here, a witness to this day, With calm delight he would this scene survey, Would see unmoved, with apathy of mind, The gaping vault, this havoc of mankind! Without a tear, these mouldering bones review, That fell by ruffian hands--employ'd by you. His phrenzy, rampant with the right divine, Inspired a nation with a black design, To blast with poison, like a wizard's spell, And plant on man the characters of hell!-- Thou, who shalt come, of feeling mind possest, And, heaven's first gift, the patriotic breast, On this bleak coast, to tread the island plain, Think, what revenge disgraced a monarch's reign! Who, not content with wealth and power we gave, Forgot the subject, to enthral the slave: Such was his hope;--that hope to realize He sent his myriads to demand the prize; What were the splendid trophies he acquired? Were these bleach'd bones the trophies he admired? While passion fires, or kindred sorrows fall, Ask not, if this sequester'd cell is all, Is all that honors these collected bones?-- Enough is done to stigmatize all thrones: Ask not, while passion with resentment fires, Why to the skies no monument aspires?-- Enough is done to rouse the patriot glow And bid the rising race your feelings know. [179] From the edition of 1815. ON THE PEAK OF PICO ONE OF THE AZORES, OR WESTWARD ISLANDS[180] Attracted to this airy steep Above the subject hills, Ocean, from his surrounding deep The urn of Pico fills. Thence gushing streams, unstinted, stray To glad the mountain's side; Or, winding through the vallies, gay, Through fields, and groves, and vineyards glide. To him the plains their verdure owe Confessing what your smiles bestow, Thou Peak of the Azores. From day to day the unwearied sail Surveys your towering cone, And when th' adjacent prospects fail, And neighboring isles no more they hail, You meet the eye alone. Twice forty miles the exploring eye Discerns you o'er the waste, Now, a blue turret in the sky When not by mists embraced. Long may you stand, the friendly mark, To those who sail afar, A spot that guides the wandering barque, A second polar star. [180] From the edition of 1815. Freneau sailed for the Madeira Islands May 12, 1803, arriving there on June 23. He was back in Charleston on August 16 following. A BACCHANALIAN DIALOGUE Written 1803[181]