The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 3 (of 3)Freneau, Philip Morin
General
The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 3 (of 3)
Freneau, Philip Morin
American poetry
RETALIATION 373
ON THE LAUNCHING OF THE INDEPENDENCE 374
THE BROOK OF THE VALLEY 376
APPENDIX.
A. THE AMERICAN VILLAGE, &C.
THE AMERICAN VILLAGE 381
THE FARMER'S WINTER EVENING 394
THE MISERABLE LIFE OF A PEDAGOGUE 396
UPON A VERY ANCIENT DUTCH HOUSE ON LONG ISLAND 399
B. LIST OF OMITTED POEMS 401
C. BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POETRY OF PHILIP FRENEAU 407
INDEX 419
PART IV
THE PERIOD OF EDITORSHIP
1790-1797
THE
POEMS OF PHILIP FRENEAU
In February, 1790, Freneau left the sea and settled down in the employ
of the New York _Daily Advertiser_. During the next seven years he was
successively editor of the _National Gazette_, _The Jersey Chronicle_,
and _The Time Piece and Literary Companion_. The period ends late in
1797 when he left New York and went for a time to Charleston, South
Carolina.
NEVERSINK[1]
These Hills, the pride of all the coast,
To mighty distance seen,
With aspect bold and rugged brow,
That shade the neighbouring main:
These heights, for solitude design'd,
This rude, resounding shore--
These vales impervious to the wind,
Tall oaks, that to the tempest bend,
Half Druid, I adore.
From distant lands, a thousand sails
Your hazy summits greet--
You saw the angry Briton come,
You saw him, last, retreat!
With towering crest, you first appear
The news of land to tell;
To him that comes, fresh joys impart,
To him that goes, a heavy heart,
The lover's long farewell.
'Tis your's to see the sailor bold,[2]
Of persevering mind,
To see him rove in search of care,
And leave true bliss behind;
To see him spread his flowing sails
To trace a tiresome road,
By wintry seas and tempests chac'd
To see him o'er the ocean haste,
A comfortless abode!
Your thousand springs of waters blue
What luxury to sip,
As from the mountain's breast they flow
To moisten Flora's lip!
In vast retirements herd the deer,
Where forests round them rise,
Dark groves, their tops in æther lost,
That, haunted still by Huddy's[3] ghost,
The trembling rustic flies.
Proud heights! with pain so often seen,
(With joy beheld once more)
On your firm base I take my stand,
Tenacious of the shore:--
Let those who pant for wealth or fame
Pursue the watery road;--
Soft sleep and ease, blest days and nights,
And health, attend these favourite heights,
Retirement's blest abode!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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