And shoots the tall top-gallants to the sky; 70
The suckling ears their silky fringes bend,
And, pregnant grown, their swelling coats
distend;

The loaded stalk, while still the burden
grows,

And gives her bounties to the sons of toil.
When now the ox, obedient to thy call,
Repays the loan that filled the winter stall, 40 O'erhangs the space that runs between the
Pursue his traces o'er the furrowed plain,
And plant in measured hills the golden grain.
But when the tender germ begins to shoot,
And the green spire declares the sprouting

root,

In some early editions: "And comb their heads, and send them off to school."

rows;

High as a hop-field waves the silent grove,
A safe retreat for little thefts of love,
When the pledged roasting-ears invite the
maid

To meet her swain beneath the new-formed
shade;

His generous hand unloads the cumbrous hill,

PHILIP FRENEAU (1752-1832)

Philip Morin Freneau was born in New York on 13 January, 1752, the son of a prosperous Huguenot merchant who also owned a large country estate in New Jersey. In his sixteenth year Philip entered the sophomore class of the college at Princeton. Several of his classmates were youths who were to become notable men, one of them being James Madison; and in the class below him was Aaron Burr. Already when he entered college Philip was an easy and copious writer, particularly of heroic verse, and at Princeton his writing was continued and encouraged. After his graduation (1771) Freneau spent several years teaching school, at first in Flatbush, Long Island, where, however, he remained only thirteen days, after which he wrote to Madison: "Long Island I have bid adieu, With all its brutish, brainless crew. The youth of that detested place Are void of reason and of grace. From Flushing hills to Flatbush plains Deep ignorance unrivaled reigns." The remainder of his schoolteaching was done near Princess Anne, Maryland. Already he had published a number of poems, and in the summer of 1775 he was in New York, fired by the impending trouble with England, and writing many satiric verses against the British. Even thus early in his career, however, he was beginning to suffer from the lack of poetic appreciation amongst his contemporaries, and in the autumn he sailed with a friend for Santa Cruz. On the voyage the mate died, and Freneau had to learn the art of navigation and take his place. For two years he made his home on the island of Santa Cruz, spending some time in short voyages, and writing poetry-notably The Beauties of Santa Cruz, The House of Night, and The Jamaica Funeral. The second of these is a long poem on death and the grave— too long to be reprinted here (only fragments of it, which lead to an incorrect impression, have been reprinted, save in F. L. Pattee's edition of Freneau's poems). This poem suffers from some radical defects, but has, nevertheless, received high praise for isolated lines of great beauty. It is, moreover, important for the connection it helps to establish between some of Freneau's work and the romantic movement, inasmuch as it anticipates both Coleridge and Poe.

In the summer of 1778 Freneau returned to America, and almost at once began publishing verses. He was an important and extensive contributor to the United States Magazine, edited by his college classmate, H. H. Brackenridge, which lived through twelve issues. Some notion of the condition of literature in 1779 may be gained from the editor's closing words. He declares that large numbers of Americans "inhabit the region of stupidity, and cannot bear to have the tranquillity of their repose disturbed by the villainous shock of a book. Reading is to them the worst of all torments, and I remember very well that at the commencement of the work it was their language, 'Art thou come to torment us before the time?' We will now say to them, 'Sleep on and take your rest.'

In the winter of 1779-1780 Freneau was again on the sea, acting as supercargo on a ship sailing to the Azores. In the summer of 1780 he sailed from Philadelphia to revisit the West Indies, but his ship was taken by the British and the poet was kept a prisoner for some weeks, during which he was attacked by a dangerous fever. His experiences he described in The Prison Ship, a satiric poem. In 1781 he became, upon its establishment in Philadelphia, editor of the Freeman's Journal, a post which he held for three years. "During all of this time," says his editor (F. L. Pattee), “his muse was exceedingly active. He followed carefully the last years of the war, and put into satiric verse every movement of the 'insolent foe.' He sang the victory of Jones, and mourned in plaintive numbers the dead at Eutaw Springs. He voiced his indignation over the destructive career of Cornwallis, and burst into a Laus Deo at his fall. The ludicrous plight of Rivington and Gaines [royalist printers], the distress of the Tories, and the final departure of the British filled him with glee, which he poured out in song after song. It was his most prolific and spontaneous period." Yet he was not without moods of discouragement. "Barbers cannot possibly exist as such," he wrote, "among a people who have neither hair nor beards. How, then, can a poet hope for success in a city where there are not three persons possessed of elegant ideas?" As editor he wrote, besides verse, much prose, some of which should be better known. A convinced democrat, he not only assailed British tyranny but, like Thomas Paine, attacked negro slavery, and cruelty in every form, and championed the rights of woman. A journalistic attack upon him is thought to have caused his withdrawal from the paper in June, 1784, whereupon, as was usual with him throughout his life when he became hard pressed, he again took to the sea, and was chiefly engaged in sailing merchant ships until 1790. During this period, how

ever, the first collected edition of his poems appeared (1786) and a supplementary volume containing prose and additional poems (1788).

In 1790 Freneau was married to Miss Eleanor Forman, and from this year until the spring of 1798 he was engaged in journalism in New York and Philadelphia. As was said, he was a democrat, and he regarded the French Revolution with enthusiasm. He wrote with intense zeal for the cause of the anti-federalists, and during a portion of the time was supported by Jefferson, who gave him a minor government post (at a salary of $250 the year). The period was one of bitter controversy, and Washington, who sympathized with the federalists, came in for attack. On one occasion he angrily spoke of "That rascal, Freneau." No disinterested inquirer any longer doubts that Freneau was honest, and was sincere in his political beliefs, yet Washington's splenetic remark has often been used against him and has done much to injure his reputation, not only as a man, but as a poet. After the failure of several journalistic enterprises, Freneau retired with his family to his farm at Mount Pleasant, New Jersey, in 1798, and there he lived, often on the verge of poverty, during the greater part of his remaining years. From 1803 to 1807 he was once more on the sea, constrained by need; but after this his life at Mount Pleasant was unbroken, until his death from exposure in a snow-storm, on the night of 18 December, 1832. New editions of his poems had been published in 1795, 1809, and 1815.

Freneau has been called "the poet of the Revolution," and, as well, "the father of American verse." There is justice in both phrases. A great poet he was not, but his talent was genuine within its limits. He was a cultured and well-read gentleman, and in his earliest verses went to school to the best masters, Milton, Gray, and Goldsmith. But, too, he was sensitive to the beauties of natural scenery and capable of romantic feeling, and he presently struck an independent note, simple and unaffected, in the lyrical appreciation of the American Indian and American nature. Further, there can be no doubt that Freneau's deepest feelings were touched by the democratic principles of Thomas Paine and by the cause of democracy in America and in France. He served America as best he could in many satiric poems, a few of which, by reason of their vigor and originality, have intrinsic worth, beyond their historic interest. Some of his lyrics, too, inspired by the French Revolution, are among his best. And, finally, his experiences on shipboard stimulated him to the composition of lyrics of the sea which at the time were new in kind and which remain interesting for their spirited tone and their authentic quality. There can be no doubt that Freneau's development was hindered by his environment and personal circumstances. The greater part of his verse is interesting only to the historian or antiquarian. Yet he wrote a few poems which are intrinsically fine in conception and workmanship and which are not derivative in character;—enough to distinguish him as America's earliest genuine poet.

ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY | What flag that rides the Gallic seas

OF PAUL JONES'

O'ER the rough main with flowing sheet
The guardian of a numerous fleet,

Seraphis from the Baltic came;
A ship of less tremendous force
Sailed by her side the self-same course,
Countess of Scarb'ro' was her name.

And now their native coasts appear,
Britannia's hills their summits rear
Above the German main;
Fond to suppose their dangers o'er,
They southward coast along the shore,
Thy waters, gentle Thames, to gain.

Full forty guns Seraphis bore,
And Scarb'ro's Countess twenty-four,
Manned with Old England's boldest tars-

ΙΟ

1 Written early in August, 1781. Published in Freeman's Journal. The event celebrated occurred on 23 September, 1779.

Shall dare attack such piles as these,
Designed for tumults and for wars!
Now from the top-mast's giddy height
A seaman cried-"Four sail in sight

Approach with favoring gales";
Pearson, resolved to save the fleet,
Stood off to sea these ships to meet,
And closely braced his shivering sails.
With him advanced the Countess bold,
Like a black tar in wars grown old:

And now these floating piles drew nigh;
But, muse, unfold what chief of fame
In th' other warlike squadron came,

20

Whose standards at his mast-head fly. 30

'Twas Jones, brave Jones, to battle led
As bold a crew as ever bled

Upon the sky-surrounded main;
The standards of the Western World
Were to the willing winds unfurled,

Denying Britain's tyrant reign.