FROM

ACT II. SCENE II

Ponteach's Cabbin. Ponteach, Philip, Chekitan, and Tenesco.

Ponteach. My Sons, and trusty Counsellor Tenesco,

As the sweet-smelling Rose when yet a Bud

Lies close conceal'd till Time and the Sun's Warmth

Hath swell'd, matur'd, and brought it forth to View,
So these my Purposes I now reveal

Are to be kept with You, on pain of Death,
Till Time hath ripen'd my aspiring Plan
And Fortune's Sunshine shall disclose the Whole;
Or should we fail, and Fortune prove perverse,
Let it be never known how far we fail'd,
Lest Fools shou'd triumph or our Foes rejoice.

Tenesco. The Life of great Designs is Secrecy,

And in Affairs of State 't is Honour's Guard:

For Wisdom cannot form a Scheme so well
But Fools will laugh if it should prove abortive;
And our Designs once known, our Honour 's made
Dependent on the Fickleness of Fortune.

Philip. What may your great and secret Purpose be,
That thus requires Concealment in its Birth?

Ponteach. To raise the Hatchet from its short Repose,
Brighten its Edge, and stain it deep with Blood;
To scourge my proud, insulting, haughty Foes;
To enlarge my Empire, which will soon be yours.
Your Interest, Glory, Grandeur I consult,
And therefore hope with Vigour you 'll pursue

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ΙΟ

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And execute whatever I command.

Chekitan. When we refuse Obedience to your Will

We are not worthy to be call'd your Sons.

Philip. If we inherit not our Father's Valour,

We never can deserve to share his Empire.

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Tenesco. Spoke like yourselves, the Sons of Ponteach.

Strength, Courage, and Obedience form the Soldier,

And the firm Base of all true Greatness lay.

Ponteach. Our Empire now is large, our Forces strong,

Our Chiefs are wise, our Warriors valiant Men;

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We all are furnish'd with the best of Arms

And all things requisite to curb a Foe;

And now 's our Time, if ever, to secure

Our Country, Kindred, Empire, all that's dear,
From these Invaders of our Rights, the English,
And set their Bounds towards the rising Sun.
Long have I seen with a suspicious Eye

The Strength and growing Numbers of the French;
Their Forts and Settlements I've view'd as Snakes
Of mortal Bite, bound by the Winter Frost,
Which in some future warm reviving Day
Would stir and hiss, and spit their Poison forth,
And spread Destruction through our happy Land.
Where are we now? The French are all subdued,
But who are in their Stead become our Lords?
A proud, imperious, churlish, haughty Band.
The French familiarized themselves with us,

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Studied our Tongue and Manners, wore our Dress,

Married our Daughters and our Sons their Maids,
Dealt honestly and well supplied our Wants,

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Used no One ill, and treated with Respect

Our Kings, our Captains, and our aged Men,

Call'd us their Friends, nay, what is more, their Children,

And seem'd like Fathers anxious for our Welfare.

Whom see we now? their haughty Conquerors

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Possess'd of every Fort and Lake and Pass,

Big with their Victories so often gain'd;

On us they look with deep Contempt and Scorn,
Are false, deceitful, knavish, insolent;

Nay, think us conquered and our Country theirs,
Without a Purchase or ev'n asking for it.

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With Pleasure I wou'd call their King my Friend,
Yea, honour and obey him as my Father;
I'd be content would he keep his own Sea

And leave these distant Lakes and Streams to us;
Nay, I would pay him Homage if requested,
And furnish Warriors to support his Cause.

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But thus to lose my Country and my Empire,

To be a Vassal to his low Commanders,

Treated with Disrespect and public Scorn

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By Knaves, by Miscreants, Creatures of his Power

Can this become a King like Ponteach,

Whose Empire 's measured only by the Sun?

No; I'll assert my Right, the Hatchet raise,
And drive these Britons hence like frighted Deer,
Destroy their Forts, and make them rue the Day
That to our fertile Land they found the Way.

PHILLIS WHEATLEY

AN HYMN TO THE EVENING

Soon as the sun forsook the eastern main,
The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain:
Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing
Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.

1766.

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Soft purl the streams; the birds renew their notes,

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And through the air their mingled music floats.

Through all the heav'ns what beauteous dies are spread!
But the west glories in the deepest red:

So may our breasts with ev'ry virtue glow,

The living temples of our God below.

ΙΟ

Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light

And draws the sable curtains of the night,

Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind

At morn to wake more heav'nly, more refin'd;
So shall the labours of the day begin

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More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin.
Night's leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes;
Then cease, my song, till fair Aurora rise.

1773.

POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION

THE LIBERTY SONG

(BY JOHN DICKINSON)

Come join hand in hand, brave Americans all,
And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty's call;
No tyrannous acts shall suppress your just claim,
Or stain with dishonor America's name.

In freedom we 're born and in freedom we 'll live;
Our purses are ready,

Steady, Friends, steady,

Not as slaves but as freemen our money we'll give.

Our worthy forefathers-let's give them a cheer—
To climates unknown did courageously steer;
Thro' oceans to deserts for freedom they came,
And dying bequeath'd us their freedom and fame.

Their generous bosoms all dangers despis'd,
So highly, so wisely, their birthrights, they priz'd:
We'll keep what they gave, we will piously keep,
Nor frustrate their toils on the land or the deep.

The Tree their own hands had to Liberty rear'd
They lived to behold growing strong and rever'd;
With transport then cried, "Now our wishes we gain,
For our children shall gather the fruits of our pain."

How sweet are the labors that freemen endure,
That they shall enjoy all the profit, secure:
No more such sweet labors Americans know,
If Britons shall reap what Americans sow.

Swarms of placemen and pensioners soon will appear,
Like locusts deforming the charms of the year:
Suns vainly will rise, showers vainly descend,
If we are to drudge for what others shall spend.

Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all;
By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall:
In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed,
For Heaven approves of each generous deed.

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All ages shall speak with amaze and applause
Of the courage we 'll show in support of our laws:
To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain,
For shame is to freemen more dreadful than pain.

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This bumper I crown for our sovereign's health,
And this for Britannia's glory and wealth.

That wealth and that glory immortal may be,
If she is but just, and we are but free.

In freedom we 're born, &c.

1768.

A NEW SONG

As near beauteous Boston lying,
On the gently swelling flood,
Without jack or pendant flying,
Three ill-fated tea-ships rode,

Just as glorious Sol was setting,

On the wharf a numerous crew,
Sons of freedom, fear forgetting,
Suddenly appeared in view.

Armed with hammers, axe, and chisels,
Weapons new for warlike deed,
Towards the herbage-freighted vessels
They approached with dreadful speed.

O'er their heads aloft in mid-sky

Three bright angel forms were seen:
This was Hampden, that was Sidney,

With fair Liberty between.

"Soon," they cried, "your foes you 'll banish,
Soon the triumph shall be won;

Scarce shall setting Phoebus vanish

Ere the deathless deed be done."

Quick as thought the ships were boarded,
Hatches burst and chests displayed;

Axes, hammers help afforded;

What a glorious crash they made!

Squash into the deep descended

Cursed weed of China's coast:

Thus at once our fears were ended

British rights shall ne'er be lost.