Kitabı oku: «The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 1 (of 3)», sayfa 21
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ON THE NEW AMERICAN FRIGATE ALLIANCE170
As Neptune traced the azure main
That owned, so late, proud Britain's reign,
A floating pile approached his car,
The scene of terror and of war.
As nearer still the monarch drew
(Her starry flag displayed to view)
He asked a Triton of his train
"What flag was this that rode the main?
"A ship of such a gallant mien
"This many a day I have not seen,
"To no mean power can she belong,
"So swift, so warlike, stout, and strong.
"See how she mounts the foaming wave —
"Where other ships would find a grave,
"Majestic, aweful, and serene,
"She sails the ocean, like its queen." —
"Great monarch of the hoary deep,
"Whose trident awes the waves to sleep,
(Replied a Triton of his train)
"This ship, that stems the western main,
"To those new, rising States belongs,
"Who, in resentment of their wrongs,
"Oppose proud Britain's tyrant sway,
"And combat her, by land and sea.
"This pile, of such superior fame,
"From their strict union takes her name,
"For them she cleaves the briny tide,
"While terror marches by her side.
"When she unfurls her flowing sails,
"Undaunted by the fiercest gales,
"In dreadful pomp, she ploughs the main,
"While adverse tempests rage in vain.
"When she displays her gloomy tier,
"The boldest foes congeal with fear,
"And, owning her superior might,
"Seek their best safety in their flight.
"But when she pours the dreadful blaze,
"And thunder from her cannon plays,
"The bursting flash that wings the ball,
"Compells those foes to strike, or fall.
"Though she, with her triumphant crew,
"Might to their fate all foes pursue,
"Yet, faithful to the land that bore,
"She stays, to guard her native shore.
"Though she might make the cruisers groan
"That sail within the torrid zone,
"She kindly lends a nearer aid,
"Annoys them here, and guards the trade.
"Now, traversing the eastern main,
"She greets the shores of France and Spain;
"Her gallant flag, displayed to view,
"Invites the old world to the new.
"This task atchieved, behold her go
"To seas congealed with ice and snow,
"To either tropic, and the line,
"Where suns with endless fervour shine.
"Not, Argo, on thy decks were found
"Such hearts of brass, as here abound;
"They for their golden fleece did fly,
"These sail – to vanquish tyranny."
ON THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN NICHOLAS BIDDLE171
Commander of the Randolph Frigate, Blown up near Barbadoes, 1776
What distant thunders rend the skies,
What clouds of smoke in columns rise,
What means this dreadful roar?
Is from his base Vesuvius thrown,
Is sky-topt Atlas tumbled down,
Or Etna's self no more!
Shock after shock torments my ear;
And lo! – two hostile ships appear,
Red lightnings round them glow:
The Yarmouth boasts of sixty-four,
The Randolph thirty-two – no more —
And will she fight this foe!
The Randolph soon on Stygian streams
Shall coast along the land of dreams,
The islands of the dead!
But Fate, that parts them on the deep,
May save the Briton yet to weep
His days of victory fled.172
Say, who commands that dismal blaze,
Where yonder starry streamer plays?
Does Mars with Jove engage!
'Tis Biddle wings those angry fires,
Biddle, whose bosom Jove inspires,
With more than mortal rage.
Tremendous flash! – and hark, the ball
Drives through old Yarmouth, flames and all;
Her bravest sons expire;
Did Mars himself approach so nigh,
Even Mars, without disgrace, might fly
The Randolph's fiercer fire.
The Briton views his mangled crew,
"And shall we strike to thirty-two? —
(Said Hector, stained with gore)
"Shall Britain's flag to these descend —
"Rise, and the glorious conflict end,
"Britons, I ask no more!"
He spoke – they charged their cannon round,
Again the vaulted heavens resound,
The Randolph bore it all,
Then fixed her pointed cannons true —
Away the unwieldy vengeance flew;
Britain, thy warriors fall.
The Yarmouth saw, with dire dismay,
Her wounded hull, shrouds shot away,
Her boldest heroes dead —
She saw amidst her floating slain
The conquering Randolph stem the main —
She saw, she turned – and fled!
That hour, blest chief, had she been thine,
Dear Biddle, had the powers divine
Been kind as thou wert brave;
But Fate, who doomed thee to expire,
Prepared an arrow, tipt with fire,
And marked a watery grave.
And in that hour, when conquest came,
Winged at his ship a pointed flame,
That not even he could shun —
The battle ceased, the Yarmouth fled,
The bursting Randolph ruin spread,
And left her task undone!173
CAPTAIN JONES'S INVITATION174
Thou, who on some dark mountain's brow
Hast toil'd thy life away till now,
And often from that rugged steep
Beheld the vast extended deep,
Come from thy forest, and with me
Learn what it is to go to sea.
There endless plains the eye surveys
As far from land the vessel strays;
No longer hill nor dale is seen,
The realms of death intrude between,
But fear no ill; resolve, with me
To share the dangers of the sea.
But look not there for verdant fields —
Far different prospects Neptune yields;
Green seas shall only greet the eye,
Those seas encircled by the sky.
Immense and deep – come then with me
And view the wonders of the sea.
Yet sometimes groves and meadows gay
Delight the seamen on their way;
From the deep seas that round us swell
With rocks the surges to repel
Some verdant isle, by waves embrac'd,
Swells, to adorn the wat'ry waste.
Though now this vast expanse appear
With glassy surface, calm and clear;
Be not deceiv'd – 'tis but a show,
For many a corpse is laid below —
Even Britain's lads – it cannot be —
They were the masters of the sea!
Now combating upon the brine,
Where ships in flaming squadrons join,
At every blast the brave expire
'Midst clouds of smoke, and streams of fire;
But scorn all fear; advance with me —
'Tis but the custom of the sea.
Now we the peaceful wave divide,
On broken surges now we ride,
Now every eye dissolves with woe
As on some lee-ward coast we go —
Half lost, half buried in the main
Hope scarcely beams on life again.
Above us storms distract the sky,
Beneath us depths unfathom'd lie,
Too near we see, a ghastly sight,175
The realms of everlasting night,
A wat'ry tomb of ocean green
And only one frail plank between!
But winds must cease, and storms decay,
Not always lasts the gloomy day,
Again the skies are warm and clear,
Again soft zephyrs fan the air,
Again we find the long lost shore,
The winds oppose our wish no more.
If thou hast courage to despise
The various changes of the skies,
To disregard the ocean's rage,
Unmov'd when hostile ships engage,
Come from thy forest, and with me
Learn what it is to go to sea.
THE SEA VOYAGE176
From a gay island green and fair,
With gentle blasts of southern air,
Across the deep we held our way,
Around our barque smooth waters played,
No envious clouds obscur'd the day,
Serene came on the evening shade.
Still farther to the north we drew,
And Porto Rico's mountains blue,
Were just decaying on the eye,
When from the main arose the sun;
Before his ray the shadows fly,
As we before the breezes run.
Now northward of the tropic pass'd,
The fickle skies grew black at last;
The ruffian winds began to roar,
The sea obey'd their tyrant force,
And we, alas! too far from shore,
Must now forsake our destin'd course.
The studding sails at last to hand,
The vent'rous captain gave command;
But scarcely to the task went they
When a vast billow o'er us broke,
And tore the sheets and tacks away,
Nor could the booms sustain the stroke.
Still vaster rose the angry main.
The winds through every shroud complain;
The topsails we could spread no more,
Though doubly reef'd, the furious blast
Away the fluttering canvas bore,
And vow'd destruction to the mast.
When now the northern storm was quell'd,
A calm ensued – but ocean swell'd
Beyond the towering mountain's height,
Till from the south new winds arose;
Our sails we spread at dead of night,
And fair, though fierce, the tempest blows.
When morning rose, the skies were clear
The gentle breezes warm and fair,
Convey'd us o'er the wat'ry road;
A ship o'ertook us on the way,
Her thousand sails were spread abroad,
And flutter'd in the face of day.
At length, through many a climate pass'd,
Cæsaria's hills we saw at last,
And reach'd the land of lovely dames;
My charming Cælia there I found,
'Tis she my warmest friendship claims,
The fairest maid that treads the ground.
170."Built up the River Merrimack at Salisbury, Massachusetts, she was first sailed in the spring of 1778, soon after her being launched, and was then commanded by Capt. Landais, a Frenchman, who was preferred to the command as a compliment to his nation and the alliance made with us, a new people."
"As Philadelphians we are entitled to some preeminence for our connection with this peculiar frigate. After the close of the War of Independence, she was owned in our city and employed as a merchant ship. When no longer seaworthy, she has been stretched upon the margin of Petty's Island to remain for a century to come, a spectacle to many river passengers." —Watson's Annals, III, 338.
The Alliance was the only one of our first navy, of the class of frigates, which escaped capture or destruction during the war. She was during the Revolution what "Old Ironsides" became in later years, the idol of the American people. She was in many engagements and was always victorious.
Freneau's poem first appeared, as far as I can find, in the 1786 edition. It was probably written shortly after the launch of the frigate.
"As Philadelphians we are entitled to some preeminence for our connection with this peculiar frigate. After the close of the War of Independence, she was owned in our city and employed as a merchant ship. When no longer seaworthy, she has been stretched upon the margin of Petty's Island to remain for a century to come, a spectacle to many river passengers." —Watson's Annals, III, 338.
The Alliance was the only one of our first navy, of the class of frigates, which escaped capture or destruction during the war. She was during the Revolution what "Old Ironsides" became in later years, the idol of the American people. She was in many engagements and was always victorious.
Freneau's poem first appeared, as far as I can find, in the 1786 edition. It was probably written shortly after the launch of the frigate.
171.This poem was first published as a pamphlet in 1781, by Francis Bailey of Philadelphia, in connection with "The Prison Ship."
Nicholas Biddle, born in Philadelphia in 1750, was a sailor from his boyhood. At one time he served beside Nelson in the British navy. In 1776, when the new frigate Randolph, of thirty-two guns, was launched at Philadelphia, he was made commander, and after several unimportant cruises he was placed over a small fleet of war vessels, with the Randolph as flagship. In March, 1779, he fell in with the British ship Yarmouth, and after a vigorous action of twenty minutes, the Randolph was blown up by her own magazine, only four men escaping with their lives.
Freneau has made several minor errors. The date 1776, which is found on all the versions of the poem, should manifestly be 1779. The Yarmouth did not attempt flight, nor did Biddle die at the moment of victory, as the poet represents. In the words of Cooper, "Victory was almost hopeless, even had all his vessels behaved equally well with his own ship." Captain Vincent had only five men killed and twelve wounded at the time of the explosion, yet the gallantry and skill of Biddle in the face of great odds justify all the praise that Freneau gives him.
Nicholas Biddle, born in Philadelphia in 1750, was a sailor from his boyhood. At one time he served beside Nelson in the British navy. In 1776, when the new frigate Randolph, of thirty-two guns, was launched at Philadelphia, he was made commander, and after several unimportant cruises he was placed over a small fleet of war vessels, with the Randolph as flagship. In March, 1779, he fell in with the British ship Yarmouth, and after a vigorous action of twenty minutes, the Randolph was blown up by her own magazine, only four men escaping with their lives.
Freneau has made several minor errors. The date 1776, which is found on all the versions of the poem, should manifestly be 1779. The Yarmouth did not attempt flight, nor did Biddle die at the moment of victory, as the poet represents. In the words of Cooper, "Victory was almost hopeless, even had all his vessels behaved equally well with his own ship." Captain Vincent had only five men killed and twelve wounded at the time of the explosion, yet the gallantry and skill of Biddle in the face of great odds justify all the praise that Freneau gives him.
172."His ancient honours fled." —Ed. 1786. This stanza was omitted from the 1795 edition, but returned again in 1809.
173."And lost what honour won." —Ed. 1786. "And lost what courage won." —Ed. 1795.
174.From the 1786 edition. In the 1795 edition the title was changed to "The Invitation."
Captain John Paul Jones sailed from Isle de Groaix, France, on his memorable cruise, August 14, 1779. To secure a crew for his fleet had been the work of many months.
Captain John Paul Jones sailed from Isle de Groaix, France, on his memorable cruise, August 14, 1779. To secure a crew for his fleet had been the work of many months.
175."Disheartening sight." —Ed. 1795.
176.Unique in the October number of the United States Magazine, 1779. The poem doubtless describes the poet's voyage home from the West Indies, in June and July, 1778.
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