[378] This poem appeared in the _Freeman's Journal_, Jan. 29, 1789, under the t.i.tle: "Stanzas written at Baltimore in Maryland, Jan. 1789, by Capt. P. Freneau." It was republished in the _Daily Advertiser_, Jan.

5, 1790, under the t.i.tle "To Harriot." It was used in the editions of 1795 and 1809. The text follows the latter edition.

[379] "Monmouth's."--_Ed. 1789._ "Morven's vale."--_Ed. 1790._

AMANDA'S COMPLAINT[380]

"In shades we live, in shades we die, Cool zephyrs breathe for our repose; In shallow streams we love to play, But, cruel you, that praise deny Which you might give, and nothing lose, And then pursue your destined way.

Ungrateful man! when anchoring here, On sh.o.r.e you came to beg relief; I shewed you where the fig trees grow, And wandering with you, free from fear, To hear the story of your grief I pointed where the cisterns are, And would have shewn, if streams did flow!

The Men that spurned your ragged crew, So long exposed to Neptune's rage-- I told them what your sufferings were: Told them that landsmen never knew The trade that hastens frozen age, The life that brings the brow of care.

A lamb, the loveliest of the flock, To your disheartened crew I gave, Life to sustain on yonder deep-- Sighing, I cast one sorrowing look When on the margin of the main You slew the loveliest of my sheep.

Along your native northern sh.o.r.es, From cape to cape, where'er you stray, Of all the nymphs that catch the eye, They scarce can be excelled by our's-- Not in more fragrant shades they play;-- The summer suns come not so nigh.

Confess your fault, mistaken swain, And own, at least, our equal charms-- Have you no flowers of ruddy hue, That please your fancy on the plain?-- Would you not guard those flowers from harm, If Nature's self each picture drew!

Vain are your sighs--in vain your tears, Your barque must still at anchor lay, And you remain a slave to care; A thousand doubts, a thousand fears, 'Till what you said, you shall unsay, Bermudian damsels are not fair!

[380] First published in the _New York Daily Advertiser_, Sept. 7, 1790, under the t.i.tle, "Written at Cape Hatteras," and dated June, 1789. The last line of this version reads, "Hatteras maidens are not fair." It was republished in the _National Gazette_, March 19, 1792, under the t.i.tle "Tormentina's Complaint," and dated "Castle Island, Bermuda, Jan. 20, 1789." In the 1809 edition, the text of which I have followed, it was grouped with the Amanda poems.

HATTERAS[381]

In fathoms five the anchor gone; While here we furl the sail, No longer vainly labouring on Against the western gale: While here thy bare and barren cliffs, O Hatteras, I survey, And shallow grounds and broken reefs-- What shall console my stay!

The dangerous shoal, that breaks the wave In columns to the sky; The tempests black, that hourly rave, Portend all danger nigh: Sad are my dreams on ocean's verge!

The Atlantic round me flows, Upon whose ancient angry surge No traveller finds repose!

The Pilot comes!--from yonder sands He shoves his barque, so frail, And hurrying on, with busy hands, Employs both oar and sail.

Beneath this rude unsettled sky Condemn'd to pa.s.s his years, No other sh.o.r.es delight his eye, No foe alarms his fears.

In depths of woods his hut he builds, Devoted to repose, And, blooming, in the barren wilds His little garden grows: His wedded nymph, of sallow hue, No mingled colours grace-- For her he toils--to her is true, The captive of her face.

Kind Nature here, to make him blest, No quiet harbour plann'd; And poverty--his constant guest, Restrains the pirate band: His hopes are all in yonder flock, Or some few hives of bees, Except, when bound for Ocrac.o.c.k,[A]

Some gliding barque he sees:

[A] All vessels from the northward that pa.s.s within Hatteras Shoals, bound for Newbern and other places on Palmico Sound, commonly in favourable weather take a Hatteras pilot to conduct them over the dangerous bar of Ocrac.o.c.k, eleven leagues north southwest of the cape.--_Freneau's note._

His Catharine then he quits with grief, And spreads his tottering sails, While, waving high her handkerchief, Her commodore she hails: She grieves, and fears to see no more The sail that now forsakes, From Hatteras' sands to banks of Core Such tedious journies takes!

Fond nymph! your sighs are heav'd in vain; Restrain those idle fears: Can you--that should relieve his pain-- Thus kill him with your tears!

Can absence, thus, beget regard, Or does it only seem?

He comes to meet a wandering bard That steers for Ashley's stream.

Though disappointed in his views, Not joyless will we part; Nor shall the G.o.d of mirth refuse The Balsam of the Heart: No n.i.g.g.ard key shall lock up Joy-- I'll give him half my store Will he but half his skill employ To guard us from your sh.o.r.e.

Should eastern gales once more awake, No safety will be here:-- Alack! I see the billows break, Wild tempests hovering near: Before the bellowing seas begin Their conflict with the land, Go, pilot, go--your Catharine join, That waits on yonder sand.

[381] Text from the edition of 1795. The poem seems to have appeared first in the _Freeman's Journal_ of Dec. 9, 1789, with the t.i.tle "The Pilot of Hatteras, by Capt. Philip Freneau." Affixed was the note: "This celebrated genius, the Peter Pindar of America, is now a master of a packet which runs between New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston. His tuneful numbers during the war did much to soften the disagreeable sensations which a state of warfare so generally occasions." The poem was reprinted in the _National Gazette_ of Jan. 16, 1792, with the note, "Written off the Cape, July, 1789, on a voyage to South Carolina, being delayed sixteen days with strong gales ahead." The poem was omitted from the edition of 1809.

ST. CATHARINE'S[A][382]

[A] An island on the sea-coast of Georgia.--_Freneau's note._

He that would wish to rove a while In forests green and gay, From Charleston bar to Catharine's isle Might sigh to find the way!

What scenes on every side appear, What pleasure strikes the mind, From Folly's train, thus wandering far, To leave the world behind.

The music of these savage groves In simple accents swells, And freely here, their sylvan loves The feather'd nation tells; The panting deer through mingled shades Of oaks forever green The vegetable world invades, That skirts the watery scene.

Thou sailor, now exploring far The broad Atlantic wave, Crowd all your canvas, gallant tar, Since Neptune never gave On barren seas so fine a view As here allures the eye, Gay, verdant scenes that Nature drew In colours from the sky.

Ye western winds! awhile delay To swell the expecting sail-- Who would not here, a hermit, stay In yonder fragrant vale, Could he engage what few can find, That coy, unwilling guest (All avarice banish'd from the mind) Contentment, in the breast!

[382] Text from the edition of 1795. The poem seems to have appeared first in the _National Gazette_ of Feb. 16, 1792, under the t.i.tle, "Lines written at St. Catharine's Island on the coast of Georgia, November, 1789." The poem is not found in the 1809 edition.

TO MR. CHURCHMAN[383]

On the rejection of his Pet.i.tion to the Congress of the United States, to enable him to make a voyage to BAFFIN'S BAY, to ascertain the truth of his Variation Chart

Churchman! methinks your scheme is rather wild Of travelling to the pole Where icy billows roll, And pork and pease Are said to freeze Even at the instant they are boil'd.

Rejected, now, your humble, ardent prayer For cash, to speed your way To Baffin's frozen bay, 'Tis your own fault if you repine!

You should have mention'd some rich golden mine-- Not Variation Charts, that claim no care.

Avarice, alone, would sooner bid you go Than all the inducements Art can shew: The men, whom you pet.i.tion for some dollars, Tho' willing to be thought prodigious scholars, Yet care as much for variation charts As king of spades, and knave of hearts.

Churchman! 'tis best to quit this vain pursuit This Variation is a common thing!