The Carrier of the Poughkeepsie Journal, to his Patrons.
TIME, with his pinions broad and strong
Still urges and still urges on,
Nor man's weak arm, or Angel's pow'r
Can stop his course a single hour.
The year elaps'd, alas! HAS BEEN
Nor ever more will glad the scene;
Its suns, its moons, its stars, are fled,
And left oblivion in their stead.
The incidents that mark'd its reign,
My feeble muse will briefly name.
COLUMBIA, freed from foreign strife,
Sees Arts and Commerce wake to life;
The ploughman's ditty cheers the plain,
The striped banner skims the main,
The hammer rings, the furnace glows,
And Industry her meed bestows.
Far in the south the red-men's yell
Was scarcely heard ere vengeance fell:
Jackson appear'd -- the tumults cease --
But one short month, and all is peace.
From scenes of petty wars, we turn
To where the noblest feelings burn;
Where lofty views and grand design,
Impress the grand and the sublime:
Ere long the western lakes will glide
And meet the Hudson's flowing tide;
Commerce will hail the fond embrace,
And smiles illumine Labor's face;
Science and Art will both rejoice
To join the all-applauding voice:
The Atlantic pendant then will wave,
O'er realms which western billows lave;
And barks of pleasure skim the floods
O'er-hung by Huron's lofty woods.
This chain of union, strong and bright
Will bind the Fed'ral quiver tight;
Millions unborn will bless the man
Who first conceiv'd 'th enlighten'd plan,
And on the high recording fane
Will shine 'th immortal Clinton's name.
Where Chimborazo, huge and high,
Sees a wide realm beneath him lie;
Where the gigantic Maranon
O'er equatorial plains flows on;
And wide Laplata wandr'ring slow,
Throws a new sea on seas below,
There Freedom's ensign high unfurl'd
Gladdens a long enslaved world;
Throngs, press'd on throngs, surround the Fair,
And Io-peans rend the air.
Hispania with malignant frown
Sees all her servile hordes o'erthrown;
Sullen and feeble, proud and poor,
She recks the ills she cannot cure.
From torrid climes and fervid skies
My panting muse to Europe flies;
Sees Britain's genius drop the tear
On hapless Charlotte's passing bier:
In total gloom her monarch sighs
While scarce in life his consort lies;
Thick clouds involve the Brunswick line,
Tho' faintest rays around them shine,
Their setting sun's enfeebled beam
Is scarcely felt, and hardly seen.
At La Chapelle a scenery new
Bursts on the gazing public view:
Monarchs with monarchs hold debate,
And weigh in scales Europa's fate.
In fabled lore Prometheus lay
Chain'd to a rock, the vulture's prey;
His liver torn and torn again,
Is still renew'd - renew'd his pain.
So, on Helena's arid crest
Is chain'd creations's deadliest pest!
Plac'd far above his least controul,
The vulture CONSCIENCE, rends his soul:
But torture with its keenest smart
Cannot amend his morbid heart.
Like the fell Tyger in his cage
Which growls and growls impotent rage--
Enlarg'd -- would rush a Fury forth
And hurl destruction o'er the earth.
Believe me, dear patrons, I have wand'red too far,
Without any compass, or planet or star;
My dear native village I scarcely can see
So I'll hie to my hive like the tempest-tost bee.
Hail home! sacred home! to my soul ever dear;
Abroad may be wonders but rapture is here.
My future ambition will never soar higher
Than the clean brushed hearth and convivial fire;
Here I lounge at my pleasure, and bask at my ease,
Full readily sooth'd, and desirous to please,
As happy myself as I happy can be,
I wish all the circle as happy as me.
But hark what a clatter! the Jolly bells ringing,
The lads and the lasses so jovially singing,
Tis New-Years they shout and then haul me along
In the midst of their merry-make Juvenile throng;
But I burst from their grasp: unforgetful of duty
To first pay obeisence to wisdom and Beauty,
My conscience and int'rest unite to command it,
And you, my kind PATRONS, deserve & demand it.
On your patience to trespass no longer I dare,
So bowing, I wish you a HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Jan. 1. 1819.
FREDERICK T. PARSONS