are fled, Some thousands crippled, and a myriad dead--60If I were owned the boldest of mankind,
And hell with all her flames inspired my mind, Could I at once with Spain and France contend, And fight the rebels on the world's green end?-- The pangs of parting I can ne'er endure,65
Yet part we must, and part to meet no more!
Oh, blast this Congress, blast each upstart State, On whose commands ten thousand captains wait; From various climes that dire Assembly came, True to their trust, as hostile to my fame,70
'Tis these, ah these, have ruined half my sway, Disgraced my arms, and led my slaves astray-- Cursed be the day when first I saw the sun, Cursed be the hour when I these wars begun:
The fiends of darkness then possessed my mind,75
And powers unfriendly to the human kind. To wasting grief, and sullen rage a prey,
To Scotland's utmost verge I'll take my way, There with eternal storms due concert keep
And while the billows rage, as fiercely weep--80
Ye highland lads, my rugged fate bemoan, Assist me with one sympathizing groan,[4] For late I find the nations are my foes,
I must submit, and that with bloody nose,
Or, like our James, fly basely from the state,85
Or share, what still is worse--old Charles's fate.
[1] From the edition of 1809. The poem was first published in the May number of the United States Magazine, 1779, and much revised and enlarged for the edition of 1786, where it bore the title, "George III. His Soliloquy for 1779." This earliest version, which began with the startling line,
"O Damn this Congress, damn each upstart state,"
was made up as follows, the numbering referring to the above version:
Lines 68-72, 47-64, followed by
"Yet rogues and savage tribes I must employ, And what I cannot conquer will destroy." Lines 23-32, followed by
5
"Ye daring hosts that croud Columbia's shore, Tremble ye traitors, and exult no more;
Flames I shall hurl with an unceasing hand, Till fires eternal blaze throughout your land, And every dome and every town expires, And traitors perish in the unfeeling fires;
But hold--though this be all my soul's desire,
Will my own towns be proof to rebel fire.
If in revenge my raging foes should come,
And burn my London--it would strike me dumb, To see my children and my queen in tears,
And these tall piles come tumbling round my ears, Would to its inmost caverns fright my mind,
And stun ourself, the boldest of mankind." Lines 73-76, followed by
"My future years I consecrate to woe,
For this great loss my soul in tears shall flow."
Ending with lines 77-82.
[2] Alluding to the peace of 1761 and the forced retirement of Pitt. [3] "And sent a scoundrel by the name of Gage."--Ed. 1786.
[4]
"O let the earth my rugged fate bemoan, And give at least one sympathizing groan."
--United States Magazine, 1779. [Pg 7]
SIR HARRY'S INVITATION[5]
Come, gentlemen Tories, firm, loyal, and true, Here are axes and shovels, and something to do! For the sake of our king,
Come, labour and sing;
You left all you had for his honour and glory, And he will remember the suffering Tory:
We have, it is true,
Some small work to do; But here's for your pay Twelve coppers a day,
And never regard what the rebels may say, But throw off your jerkins and labour away. To raise up the rampart, and pile up the wall, To pull down old houses and dig the canal, To build and destroy--
Be this your employ,
In the day time to work at our fortifications,
And steal in the night from the rebels your rations: The king wants your aid,
Not empty parade; Advance to your places Ye men of long faces,
Nor ponder too much on your former disgraces,
This year, I presume, will quite alter your cases.[Pg 8]
6
Attend at the call of the fifer and drummer,
The French and the Rebels are coming next summer, And forts we must build
Though Tories are kill'd--
Then courage, my jockies, and work for your king, For if you are taken no doubt you will swing--
If York we can hold I'll have you enroll'd; And after you're dead
Your names shall be read
As who for their monarch both labour'd and bled,
And ventur'd their necks for their beef and their bread.
'Tis an honour to serve the bravest of nations, And be left to be hang'd in their capitulations-- Then scour up your mortars
And stand to your quarters,
'Tis nonsense for Tories in battle to run, They never need fear sword, halberd, or gun; Their hearts should not fail 'em,
No balls will assail 'em, Forget your disgraces And shorten your faces,
For 'tis true as the gospel, believe it or not, Who are born to be hang'd, will never be shot.
[5] According to Frank Moore's Songs and Ballads of the Revolution, this poem was first issued as a ballad-sheet in 1779. It was
reprinted in the Freeman's Journal, April 17, 1782, and was published in the author's three editions. The text follows the edition of
1795.
Sir Henry Clinton was left in command of New York City, July 5, 1777, when Howe started on his expedition for the capture of
Philadelphia. Freneau's poem indicates his treatment of the Tory refugees. [Pg 9]
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY AND MR. FOX[6]
Supposed to have passed about the time of the approach of the combined fleets of France and Spain to the British coasts, August,
1779.
King G.
Good master Fox,[7] your
