"SIR, here's my son, I beg you'd mind, The graces have been very kind, And on him all their blessings shed, [Except a genius and a head] Teach him the doctrine of the sphere, The sliding circle and the square, And starry worlds, I know not where: And let him quickly learn to say, Those learned words Penna, Pennae; Which late I heard our parson call As learning, knowledge all in all." AND then a city dame approaches, Known by her horsemen, chairs and coaches: "Sir, here's my son, teach him to speak The Hebrew, Latin, and the Greek: And this I half forgot, pray teach My tender boy--the parts of speech-- But never let this son of me, Learn that vile thing astronomy: Upon my word it's all a sham,"-- O I'm your humble servant ma'am. There certainly is something in it-- "Boy, drive the coach off in a minute." And thus I'm left in street or road, A laughing stock to half the crowd, To argue with myself the case, And prove its being to my face. A plague I say on such employment, Where's neither pleasure nor enjoyment: Whoe'er to such a life is ty'd, Was born the day he should have dy'd; Born in an hour when angry spheres Were tearing caps, or pulling ears: And Saturn slow 'gainst swift Mercurius, Was meditating battles furious; Or comets with their blazing train, Decreed their life, a life of pain. [213] This poem was undoubtedly written while Freneau was conducting his school at Flatbush early in 1772. See Vol. I, page xxi. UPON A VERY ANCIENT DUTCH HOUSE ON LONG ISLAND.[214] Behold this antique dome by envious time, Grown crazy, and in ev'ry part decay'd; Full well, alas, it claims my humble rhyme, For such lone haunts and contemplation made. Ah see the hearth, where once the chearful fire Blaz'd high, and warm'd the winter trav'lers toes; And see the walls, which once did high aspire, Admit the storms, and ev'ry wind that blows. In yonder corner, now to ruin gone, The ancient housewife's curtain'd bed appear'd, Where she and her man JOHN did sleep alone, Nor nightly robber, nor the screech owl fear'd. There did they snore full oft' the whole night out, Smoking the sable pipe, 'till that did fall, Reft from their jaws by Somnus' sleepy rout, And on their faces pour'd its scorched gall. And in the compass of yon' smaller gang, The swain BATAVIAN once his courtship made, To some DUTCH lass, as thick as she was long; "Come then, my angel, come," the shepherd said, "And let us for the bridal bed prepare; For you alone shall ease my future life, And you alone shall soften all my care, My strong, my hearty, and industrious wife." Thus they--but eating ruin now hath spread Its wings destructive o'er the antique dome; The mighty fabrick now is all a shed, Scarce fit to be the wand'ring beggar's home.