Rather attach yourself to Caesar's wing-- You'll find it better--better, sir, by half, To sooth Pomposo's ear--or make him laugh: So shall you, mounted in a coach and six, Ride envoy to the country of the Creeks-- So shall you visit Europe's gaudy courts, And see the polish'd world, at public charge; Return--and spend your life in sports, Be air'd in coach, and sail'd in barge:-- Pursue this track, thou man of curious soul, Nor, like a whale, go puffing to the pole.

[383] This poem is found only in the 1795 edition. The Journal of the House of Representatives, 1st Congress, 1st Session, April 20, 1789, notes the investigations of John Churchman in regard to the magnetic needle and the determination of longitude by his method and grants to Churchman the right of exclusive use of his invention. Unfavorable report on his pet.i.tion for aid to enable him to make a voyage to Baffin's Bay to pursue his investigations of the causes of the variation of the magnetic needle.

THE PROCESSION TO SYLVANIA[384]

In Life's dull round, how often folks are cross'd, Their projects spoil'd, their sayings misapplied; Some friends in woods and some in oceans lost, Some doom'd to walk on foot, while others ride.

But, now, let preachers moralize in verse, While I to yonder caravan attend That all prepar'd, like some slow moving herse Begins its journey to an Indian land;

Bound for Sylvania!--sad, disheartening town, When thou art nam'd how many a nymph will sigh, Sigh, lest her sweet-heart should return a clown With grizly homespun coat, long beard, and pumpkin pye.

This caravan with wondrous geer is stow'd, All sorts of moveables--straw beds, and cradles, Old records, salted fish, make up their load, With kegs of brandy, frying pans, and ladles.

A pensive Printer in a one-horse chair (Dragg'd slowly on by sullen sleepy steed, With some ill-fated squires) brings up the rear, Contriving future news for folks to read.

To guard the whole, a trusty knight appears, With chosen men, to keep the wolves at bay: They march--and lo! Belinda all in tears That bears must hug instead of ladies gay.

[384] Published in the _Daily Advertiser_, Dec. 30, 1789, with this introduction: "The seat of government in South Carolina is removed by act of a.s.sembly from Charleston to Columbia, a dismal place in the centre of that state consisting of only four houses. This removal is by many in Carolina considered as premature and amongst other animadversions has occasioned the two following poetic pieces which from several circ.u.mstances we conclude to have been written by Mr. Freneau."

The t.i.tle of the poem was originally "The Procession to Columbia." It was published only in the 1795 edition.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS[385]

From his obscure abode, On many a tiresome road The pilgrim, musing, took his way: Through dark and dismal groves Where the sad turtle loves To pa.s.s the night, and kill the day.

In an obscure retreat, I saw the pilgrim greet, A barren soil and dreary town;-- Thy streets be-gloomed with trees With pain the traveller sees, Sylvania, barren of renown.--

What can console him there?-- Not even a house of prayer With glittering spire is seen to rise-- No nymphs in gaudy trim Will there be seen by him;-- No music, sermons, b.a.l.l.s, or pigeon pies.

Dull, melancholy streams, Dutch politics and schemes, Owls screeching in the empty street-- Wolves howling at the doors-- Bears breaking into stores; These make the picture of the town--complete.

[385] In the _Daily Advertiser_ of Dec. 30, 1789, this bore the t.i.tle, "A View of Columbia," and the opening line was "From Charleston's gay abode." In the 1795 edition the t.i.tle was changed to "Lysander's Retreat." Text from the edition of 1809.

SANGRADO'S EXPEDITION TO SYLVANIA[386]

Tir'd of his journey o'er a sandy waste, Sangrado to Sylvania[387] came at last: A bear-skin coat was round his carcase roll'd, Shivering with northern winds,[388] that blew so cold: Dark was the night--much for his shins he fear'd, For not one lamp in all the town appear'd, Twelve was the hour--the citizens, in bed, Slept sound--of bears and wolves no more in dread;

No city-guards, no watchmen hove in sight, No chyming bell sung out the time of night; But foggy blasts their wintry music blew Through shabby trees that round the court-house[389] grew; At length, alighting at one scurvy dome, He knock'd--and hop'd the people were at home.--

Ho!--(cry'd the man within) ho! who are you?-- What! heigh!--from Cambria?[390]--have you nothing new?--

_Sangrado_

Nothing at all--the times are shameful bad; Money at ten per cent--hard to be had: With apples and potatoes, our dear cousins The northern men, are pouring in by dozens: The French, 'tis said, will soon discharge their king-- This, friend, is all I know--and all I bring--

_Citizen_

What! not some oysters, gather'd near the coast, Such as in days of old we lov'd to roast?

_Sangrado_

No, not an oyster--faith, you're in a dream, To think I'd load my little nag with them: We both are weary; let me in, I pray, Even though you turn us out at break of day.

_Citizen_

'Tis midnight now--return from whence you come-- High time all honest people were at home.

_Sangrado_

Brother, me thinks my toes are somewhat cold-- Unbar your door--if one may be so bold: Wet to the skin, and travelling all the day, I want some rest--open the door, I say!

_Citizen_

Open the door, forsooth! the man is mad: Lodging is not so easy to be had; It is an article we do not trade in, Nor shall my bed by all the world be laid in.

Our very hay-loft is as full as can be-- Push off, my friend, and try your luck at Granby.

[386] Published in the _Daily Advertiser_, Feb. 5, 1790, under the t.i.tle "A Columbian Dialogue from the Charleston Gazette, supposed to have been written by Capt. Freneau." Text from the 1795 edition.

[387] "Columbia."--_Ed. 1790._

[388] "Shivering with Hobaw winds."--_Ib._

[389] "The State house."--_Ib._

[390] "Charleston."--_Ib._

THE DISTREST THEATRE[A][391]

[A] Harmony Hall, at Charleston, now demolished.--_Freneau's note._