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قراءة كتاب The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 2 (of 3)
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The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution. Volume 2 (of 3)
cowards, fools, and knaves;
Awhile directed by his feeble hand,
Whose troops were kicked and pelted through the land,
Or starved in Boston, cursed the unlucky hour45
They left their dungeons for that fatal shore.
France aids them now, a desperate game I play,
And hostile Spain will do the same, they say;
My armies vanquished, and my heroes fled,
My people murmuring, and my commerce dead,50
My shattered navy pelted, bruised, and clubbed,
By Dutchmen bullied, and by Frenchmen drubbed,
My name abhorred, my nation in disgrace,
How should I act in such a mournful case!
My hopes and joys are vanished with my coin,55
My ruined army, and my lost Burgoyne!
What shall I do—confess my labours vain,
Or whet my tusks, and to the charge again!
But where's my force—my choicest troops are fled,
Some thousands crippled, and a myriad dead—60
If I were owned the boldest of mankind,
And hell with all her flames inspired my mind,
Could I at once with Spain and France contend,
And fight the rebels on the world's green end?—
The pangs of parting I can ne'er endure,65
Yet part we must, and part to meet no more!
Oh, blast this Congress, blast each upstart State,
On whose commands ten thousand captains wait;
From various climes that dire Assembly came,
True to their trust, as hostile to my fame,70
'Tis these, ah these, have ruined half my sway,
Disgraced my arms, and led my slaves astray—
Cursed be the day when first I saw the sun,
Cursed be the hour when I these wars begun:
The fiends of darkness then possessed my mind,75
And powers unfriendly to the human kind.
To wasting grief, and sullen rage a prey,
To Scotland's utmost verge I'll take my way,
There with eternal storms due concert keep
And while the billows rage, as fiercely weep—80
Ye highland lads, my rugged fate bemoan,
Assist me with one sympathizing groan,[4]
For late I find the nations are my foes,
I must submit, and that with bloody nose,
Or, like our James, fly basely from the state,85
Or share, what still is worse—old Charles's fate.
[1] From the edition of 1809. The poem was first published in the May number of the United States Magazine, 1779, and much revised and enlarged for the edition of 1786, where it bore the title, "George III. His Soliloquy for 1779." This earliest version, which began with the startling line,
was made up as follows, the numbering referring to the above version:
Lines 68-72, 47-64, followed by
And what I cannot conquer will destroy."
Lines 23-32, followed by
Tremble ye traitors, and exult no more;
Flames I shall hurl with an unceasing hand,
Till fires eternal blaze throughout your land,
And every dome and every town expires,
And traitors perish in the unfeeling fires;
But hold—though this be all my soul's desire,
Will my own towns be proof to rebel fire.
If in revenge my raging foes should come,
And burn my London—it would strike me dumb,
To see my children and my queen in tears,
And these tall piles come tumbling round my ears,
Would to its inmost caverns fright my mind,
And stun ourself, the boldest of mankind."
Lines 73-76, followed by
For this great loss my soul in tears shall flow."
Ending with lines 77-82.
[2] Alluding to the peace of 1761 and the forced retirement of Pitt.
[3] "And sent a scoundrel by the name of Gage."—Ed. 1786.
And give at least one sympathizing groan."
—United States Magazine, 1779.
SIR HARRY'S INVITATION[5]