David Humphreys (soldier) Quotes

Yes thank your stars, Columbia's happy dames!
Ye need not fear those frightful fun'ral flames:
Of other lands let foreign bards be dreaming,
But this, this only is the land for women;—
Here ye invert the Bramins' barb'rous plan,
And stretch your sceptre o'er the tyrant—man.

Your vict'ries won—your revolution ended—
Your constitution newly made—and mended—
Your fund of wit—your intellectual riches—
Plans in the closet—in the senate speeches—
Will make this age of heroes, wits and sages
The first in story to the latest ages!—
Go on—and prosper with your projects blest,
Till your millennium rises in the west:—
We wish success to your politic scheming,
Rule ye the world!—and then—be rul'd by women!

Some days elaps'd, I jogg'd quite brave on
And found my Trumbull at New-Haven;
Than whom, more humour never man did
Possess—nor lives a soul more candid—
But who, unsung, would know hereafter,
The repartees, and peals of laughter,
Or how much glee those laughters yield one,
Maugre the system Chesterfieldian!
Barlow I saw, and here began
My friendship for that spotless man;
Whom, though the world does not yet know it,
Great nature form'd her loftiest poet.
But Dwight was absent at North-Hampton,
That bard sublime, and virtue's champion.
To whom the charms of verse belong,
The father, of our epic song!

With what high chiefs I play'd my early part,
With Parsons first, whose eye, with piercing ken,
Reads through their hearts the characters of men;
Then how I aided, in the foll'wing scene,
Death-daring Putnam—then immortal Greene—
Then how great Washington my youth approv'd,
In rank preferred, and as a parent lov'd.

And let philosophers say what they please,
You're not grown less by coming o'er the seas.

Our Polish friend, whose name still sounds so hard,
To make it rhyme would puzzle any bard;
That youth, whom bays and laurels early crown'd,
For virtue, science, arts and arms renown'd!

For here, ye fair, no servile rites bear sway,
Nor force ye—(though ye promise)—to obey:
Blest in the mildness of tins temp'rate zone,
Slaves to no whims, or follies—but your own.—
Here custom, check'd in ev'ry rude excess,
Confines its influence to the arts of dress,
O'er charms eclips'd the side-long hat displays,
Extends the hoop, or pares away the stays,
Bedecks the fair with artificial gear,
Breast-works in front, and bishops in the rear:—
The idol rears, on beauty's dazzling throne,
Mankind her slaves, and all the world her own;
Bound by no laws a husband's whims to fear,
Obey in life, or burn upon his bier;
She views with equal eye, sublime o'er all,
A lover perish—or a lap-dog fall—
Coxcombs or monkeys from their chains broke loose—
And now a husband dead—and now a goose.

His list'ning sons the sire shall oft remind,
What parent sages first in Congress join'd;
The faithful Hancock grac'd that early scene,
Great Washington appear'd in godlike mien,
Jay, Laurens, Clinton, skill'd in ruling men,
And he, who earlier, held the farmer's pen.
'Twas Lee, illustrious, at the father's head,
The daring way to independence led.
The self-taught Sherman urg'd his reasons clear,
And all the Livingstons to freedom dear;
What countless names in fair procession throng,
With Ruttledge, Johnson, Nash, demand the song!

See the great cabin nigh, its doors unfold,
Shew fleeting forms from mirrors fix'd in gold!
O'er painted ceilings brighter prospects rise,
And rural scenes again delight our eyes.