Go then, ye remnants of inglorious wars,
Disown your marks of merit, hide your scars,
Of lust, of power, of titled pride accused,
Steal to your graves dishonored and abused.
For see, proud Faction waves her flaming brand,
And discord riots o'er the ungrateful land;
Lo, to the North a wild adventurous crew
In desperate mobs the savage state renew;
Each felon chief his maddening thousands draws,
And claims bold license from the bond of laws;
In other states the chosen sires of shame,
Stamp their vile knaveries with a legal name;
In honor's seat the sons of meanness swarm,
And senates base, the work of mobs perform,
To wealth, to power the sons of union rise,
While foes deride you and while friends despise.
Stand forth, ye traitors, at your country's bar,
Inglorious authors of intestine war,
What countless mischiefs from their labors rise!
Pens dipped in gall, and lips inspired with lies!
Ye sires of ruin, prime detested cause
Of bankrupt faith, annihilated laws,
Of selfish systems, jealous, local schemes,
And unioned empire lost in empty dreams;
Your names, expanding with your growing crime,
Shall float disgustful down the stream of time,
Each future age applaud the avenging song,
And outraged nature vindicate the wrong.
Yes, there are men, who, touched with heavenly fire, Beyond the confines of these climes aspire, Beyond the praises of a tyrant age,
To live immortal in the patriot page;
Who greatly dare, though warning worlds oppose,
To pour just vengeance on their country's foes.
Yet what the hope? the dreams of congress fade,
The federal union sinks in endless shade,
Each feeble call, that warns the realms around,
Seems the faint echo of a dying sound,
Each requisition wafts in fleeting air,
And not one state regards the powerless prayer.
Ye wanton states, by heaven's best blessings cursed,
Long on the lap of fostering luxury nursed,
What fickle frenzy raves, what visions strange,
Inspire your bosoms with the lust of change?
And frames the wish to fly from fancied ill,
And yield your freedom to a monarch's will?
Go view the lands to lawless power a prey,
Where tyrants govern with unbounded sway;
See the long pomp in gorgeous state displayed,
The tinselled guards, the squadroned horse parade;
See heralds gay with emblems on their vest,
In tissued robes tall beauteous pages drest;
Where moves the pageant, throng unnumbered slaves,
Lords, dukes, and princes, titulary knaves
Confusedly shine, the purple gemmed with stars,
Sceptres, and globes, and crowns, and rubied cars,
On gilded orbs the thundering chariots rolled,
Steeds snorting fire, and champing bits of gold,
Prance to the trumpet's voice—while each assumes
A loftier gait, and lifts his neck of plumes.
High on the moving throne, and near the van,
The tyrant rides, the chosen scourge of man;
Clarions, and flutes, and drums his way prepare,
And shouting millions rend the conscious air;
Millions, whose ceaseless toils the pomp sustain,
Whose hour of stupid joy repays an age of pain.
From years of darkness springs the regal line,
Hereditary kings by right divine:
'Tis theirs to riot on all nature's spoils,
For them with pangs unblest the peasant toils,
For them the earth prolific teems with grain,
Theirs, the dread labors of the devious main,
Annual for them the wasted land renews
The gifts oppressive, and extorted dues.
For them when slaughter spreads the gory plains,
The life-blood gushes from a thousand veins,
While the dull herd, of earth-born pomp afraid,
Adore the power that coward meanness made.
Nor less abhorred the certain woe that waits
The giddy rage of democratic states;
Whose popular breath, high blown in restless tide,
No laws can temper, and no reason guide;
An equal sway their mind indignant spurns,
To wanton change the bliss of freedom turns,
Led by wild demagogues the factious crowd,
Mean, fierce, imperious, insolent and loud,
Nor fame nor wealth nor power nor system draws,
They see no object and perceive no cause,
But feel by turns, in one disastrous hour,
The extremes of license and the extremes of power.
What madness prompts, or what ill-omened fates,
Your realm to parcel into petty states?
Shall lordly Hudson part contending powers?
And broad Potomac lave two hostile shores?
Must Allegany's sacred summits bear
The impious bulwarks of perpetual war?
His hundred streams receive your heroes slain ?
And bear your sons inglorious to the main?
Will states cement by feebler bonds allied?
Or join more closely as they more divide?
Will this vain scheme bid restless factions cease?
Check foreign wars or fix internal peace?
Call public credit from her grave to rise?
Or gain in grandeur what they lose in size?
In this weak realm can countless kingdoms start,
Strong with new force in each divided part?
While empire's head, divided into four,
Gains life by severance of diminished power?
So when the philosophic hand divides
The full grown polypus in genial tides,
Each severed part, informed with latent life,
Acquires new vigor from the friendly knife,
O'er peopled sands the puny insects creep,
Till the next wave absorbs them in the deep.
What then remains? must pilgrim freedom fly
From these loved regions to her native sky?
When the fair fugitive the orient chased,
She fixed her seat beyond the watery waste;
Her docile sons (enough of power resigned,
And natural rites in social leagues combined)
In virtue firm, though jealous in her cause,
Gave senates force and energy to laws,
From ancient habit local powers obey,
Yet feel no reverence for one general sway,
For breach of faith no keen compulsion feel,
And feel no interest in the federal weal.
But know, ye favored race, one potent head,
Must rule your states, and strike your foes with dread,
The finance regulate, the trade control,
Live through the empire, and accord the whole.
Ere death invades, and night's deep curtain falls, Through ruined realms the voice of Union calls, Loud as the trump of heaven through darkness roars, When gyral gusts entomb Caribbean towers, When nature trembles through the deeps convulsed, And ocean foams from craggy cliffs repulsed,
On you she calls! attend the warning cry,
"Ye live united, or divided die."
[The Echo, with Other Poems. 1807.-The title-series is composed of newspaper satires, 1791-96. Written by Alsop and Theodore Dwight, with occasional passages by Hopkins, M. F. Cogswell, and E. H. Smith.]
ECHO OF AN INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
"On taking this station on a former occasion, I declared the principle on which I believed it my duty to administer the affairs of our commonwealth. My conscience tells me that I have, on every occasion, acted up to that declaration, according to its obvious import. and to the understanding of every candid mind.”—Thomas Jefferson. 4 March, 1805.
'TIS just four years, this all-eventful day,
Since on my head devolved our country's sway,
When at the undertaking's magnitude
With lowly reverence I most humbly bowed.
You well remember with what modest air
I first approached the Presidential Chair,
How blushed my cheek, what faltering in my gait,
When first I squatted on the throne of state!
But as, protected by supernal power,
We all survived that most tremendous hour,
Let us rejoice, and trust that not in vain
Four years have brought us to this place again.
A foolish custom forced me to declare
Off-hand what point of compass I should steer;
But knowing well that every Federal eye
On me was fixed some mischief to descry,
I tuned my fiddle for the vulgar throng,
And lulled suspicion by a soothing song.
An old companion in my bosom keeps
A constant watch, save when perchance he sleeps;
From early youth in friendship sweet we've played,
And hand in hand through life's vast circuit strayed.
Last night I asked him freely to declare,
(And he was here before, and heard me swear)
How far I'd kept my first inaugural speech,
And whether Candor could allege a breach.
He boldly answered-"Sir, on each occasion,
You've acted e'en beyond your declaration:
Thus, when you promised to be just and true
To all,' and give to every man his due,
Could Candor possibly have understood
That the term 'all men' could your foes include ?
No, Sir, on me let all the mischief fall,
If aught except your friends was meant by'all.'
Nor shall the Federalists, perverse and base,
On grounds like these lay claim to hold their place.
Again, when toleration was your theme,
What stupid mortal could a moment dream
You meant to drop at once your choicest grace,
The right to turn the Federalists from place:
What though you said, with soft persuasive tone,
That Federalists and Democrats were one;
Yet you, and I, and Candor fully knew
By one' you meant nor more nor less than two.
And shall a man of broad capacious mind
Be to one meaning rigidly confined?
The ancient proverb's wiser far, I trow,
"Tis best to keep two strings to every bow.'
This maxim oft, amid this world of strife,
Has proved the solace of your varied life,
Charmed the rapt ear with soft and double tongue,
And gained applause by sweet ambiguous song.
Now, Sir, since I have set all matters right,
Conscience will bid the President good-night."
FROM "THE POLITICAL GREEN-HOUSE."
[By Alsop, Dwight, and Hopkins, 1799.-From The Echo, etc. 1807.]
BEHOLD the Chief, whose mighty name
With glory fills the trump of fame,
Before whose genius, smote with dread,
The veteran hosts of Austria fled,
The imperial eagle drooped forlorn,
His plumage soiled, his pinions torn,
And Conquest's self, 'mid fields of blood,
Attendant on his footsteps trode,-
To gain new palms on Afric's coast,
Lead o'er the deep a chosen host.
And lo! at first, with favoring ray,
Kind fortune lights him on his way;
Those ramparts, Europe's ancient pride,
Which erst the Turkish power defied,
By stratagem and force compelled,
To him the towers of Malta yield.
Victorious, thence to Egypt's coast
He leads his fell marauding host;
In vain the Turks oppose their force,
To stop the fierce invader's course,
Nor Alexandria's time-worn towers,
Nor Cairo long resist his powers;
By desperate courage fierce impelled
The Mameluke squadrons tempt the field;
|