DAVID HUMPHREYS

FROM

THE HAPPINESS OF AMERICA

Thrice happy race! how blest were freedom's heirs,
Blest if they knew what happiness is theirs,
Blest if they knew to them alone 't is given
To know no sov'reign but the law and Heaven!

That law for them and Albion's realms alone
On sacred justice elevates her throne,
Regards the poor, the fatherless protects,

The widow shields, the proud oppressor checks.
Blest if they knew beneath umbrageous trees
To prize the joys of innocence and ease,
Of peace, of health, of temp'rance, toil, and rest,
And the calm sun-shine of the conscious breast.
For them the spring his annual task resumes,
Invests in verdure and adorns in blooms
Earth's parent lap and all her wanton bow'rs
In foliage fair with aromatic flow'rs.
Their fanning wings the zephyrs gently play,
And winnow blossoms from each floating spray;
In bursting buds the embryo fruits appear,
The hope and glory of the rip'ning year.

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The mead that courts the scythe, the pastur'd vale,

For them the flock o'er green savannas feeds,
For them high-prancing bound the playful steeds,
For them the heifers graze sequester'd dales,

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Or pour white nectar in the brimming pails.

To them, what time the hoary frosts draw near,
Ripe autumn brings the labours of the year.
To nature's sons how fair th' autumnal even,
The fading landscape and impurpled heaven,
As from their fields they take their homeward way,
And turn to catch the sun's departing ray!
What streaming splendours up the skies are roll'd,
Whose colours beggar Tyrian dyes and gold!
'Till night's dun curtains, wide o'er all display'd,
Shroud shad'wy shapes in melancholy shade.
Then doubling clouds the wintry skies deform,
And, wrapt in vapour, comes the roaring storm,
With snows surcharg'd from tops of mountains sails,
Loads leafless trees and fills the whiten'd vales.

Then desolation strips the faded plains,
Then tyrant death o'er vegetation reigns;
The birds of Heav'n to other climes repair,
And deep'ning glooms invade the turbid air.
Nor then unjoyous winter's rigours come,
But find them happy and content with home:
Their gran'ries fill'd, the task of culture past,
Warm at their fire they hear the howling blast,
With patt'ring rain and snow or driving sleet,
Rave idly loud and at their window beat;
Safe from its rage, regardless of its roar,

In vain the tempest rattles at the door.

The tame brutes shelter'd, and the feather'd brood,
From them, more provident, demand their food:
'T is then the time from hoarding cribs to feed

The ox laborious and the noble steed;

"T is then the time to tend the bleating fold,

To strow with litter and to fence from cold.

The cattle fed, the fuel pil'd within,
At setting day the blissful hours begin:

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'T is then, sole owner of his little cot,

The farmer feels his independent lot,

Hears with the crackling blaze that lights the wall
The voice of gladness and of nature call,

Beholds his children play, their mother smile,

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And tastes with them the fruit of summer's toil.

TIMOTHY DWIGHT

FROM

THE CONQUEST OF CANAAN

Now near the stream approach'd the sounding war,
When fierce to combat roll'd a splendid car:
There giant Zedeck rose in dreadful view;
Two furious steeds the mighty monarch drew;
With wild impetuous rage they foam'd along,
And pale before them fled the parting throng.
From Joshua's course he saw his bands retire;
His reddening aspect flash'd a gloomy fire;
With huge hoarse voice the furious hero cried,
While the plains murmur'd and the groves replied:
"Whatever wretch from this bright combat flies,
By the just gods, the impious dastard dies!
Nor hope to 'scape the keen avenging blade
In the still cot or in the lonely shade:
Soon shall this sword with victory crown'd return,
And wrath and vengeance all your dwellings burn;
Your bodies limb from limb this arm shall tear,
Nor sons nor wives nor sires nor infants spare,
But bid the hungry hawks your race devour
And call grim wolves to feast in floods of gore!"
He spoke: astonish'd, some more nimbly flew,
And some to conflict with fresh ardour drew;
Despair once more the growing flight repell'd,
And gave new horrors to the gloomy field.

Meantime on Joshua drove the sounding car,
And burst impetuous through the thickest war.
Rough, heavy, dreadful, by the giant thrown,
Flew the vast fragment of a craggy stone;
Scarce 'scap'd the wary Chief, with sudden bound,
While the broad ruin plow'd the crumbling ground.
A javelin then the monarch's hand impell'd
That sung and trembled 'gainst the Hero's shield;
Swift o'er his head a second hissing flies,
And a pierc'd warrior groans and falls and dies.
At once great Joshua rais'd his reeking sword,

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And with deep wounds the maddening coursers gor'd:
Through cleaving ranks the coursers backward flew,
And swift from sight the helpless monarch drew.
To the high shore impendent o'er the flood
They rush'd as whirlwinds sweep the rending wood;
To turn they tried, with short and sudden wheel,
But tried in vain—the sounding chariot fell.
Prone down the lofty bank the steeds pursued,
Where sharp and ragged rocks beneath were strew'd;

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All shrill the giant's striking mail resounds;
With clattering crash the cracking car rebounds;
White o'er his lifeless head the waters roar,
Lost in the stream and doom'd to rise no more.

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As when the south's fierce blasts the main deform
And roll the pealful onset of the storm;

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Hung are the heavens with night; the world around
Deep-murmuring trembles to the solemn sound;
Full on dread Longa's wild-resounding shore

Hills, wav'd o'er hills, ascend and burst and roar;
Safe in his cot the hoary sailor hears,

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Or drops for fancied wrecks unbidden tears:

A boundless shout from Israel's raptur'd train

Rent the broad skies and shook the dreadful plain;
For now, their champion, trust, and glory lost,
From Joshua's vengeance flew sad Salem's host;
Before him nought avail'd the shields and spears,
But chiefs and foaming steeds and rattling cars,
Ranks urging ranks, squadrons o'er squadrons borne,
Down the bank plung'd, the bank behind them torne,
Sunk with a rushing sound; great Joshua's arm,
Uplifted, imminent impell'd the storm.
Alert he bounded on the yielding sand,
And scatter'd ruin from his red right hand.
The white waves foam'd around his midway side
As fierce he thunder'd thro' the rushing tide.
Two blooming youths he dash'd against the rock
Where Zedeck's chariot felt the fatal shock;
Their gushing blood ran purple thro' the wave,
And thousands with them found a watery grave.
1771-74.

1785.

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GREENFIELD HILL

FROM

PART II

Fair Verna, loveliest village of the west,
Of every joy and every charm possess'd,
How pleas'd amid thy varied walks I rove,
Sweet, cheerful walks of innocence and love,
And o'er thy smiling prospects cast my eyes
And see the seats of peace and pleasure rise,
And hear the voice of Industry resound,
And mark the smile of Competence around.
Hail, happy village! O'er thy cheerful lawns,
With earliest beauty, spring delighted dawns:
The northward sun begins his vernal smile,
The spring-bird carols o'er the cressy rill;
The shower that patters in the ruffled stream,

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The ploughboy's voice that chides the lingering team,
The bee, industrious, with his busy song,

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The woodman's axe the distant groves among,

The waggon rattling down the rugged steep,

The light wind lulling every care to sleep,

All these, with mingled music, from below
Deceive intruding sorrow as I go.

How pleas'd fond Recollection, with a smile,
Surveys the varied round of wintery toil;

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How pleas'd, amid the flowers that scent the plain,
Recalls the vanish'd frost and sleeted rain,

The chilling damp, the ice-endangering street,
And treacherous earth that slump'd beneath the feet.

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Yet even stern winter's glooms could joy inspire:

Then social circles grac'd the nutwood fire;

The axe resounded at the sunny door;

The swain, industrious, trimm'd his flaxen store,

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Or thresh'd, with vigorous flail, the bounding wheat,

His poultry round him pilfering for their meat,

Or slid his firewood on the creaking snow,

Or bore his produce to the main below,

Or o'er his rich returns exulting laugh'd,

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Or pledg'd the healthful orchard's sparkling draught;

While, on his board for friends and neighbours spread,