Ohio History Journal

Philip Bevan -- Minor Poet of Ohio             213

Although Bevan's verse was modeled after the Eng-

lish school and so was representative of that period of

imitation in poetry which possessed American poets at

the opening of the nineteenth century, his frank avowal

of love for the new nation and his delight in the beauty

of the frontier states are reason enough to mark him as

one of the important members of the minor school.

Then, too, the reprinting of "America" will preserve the

contents of what is now a rare book and will give to the

historian of American literature another memento

which might otherwise be lost. This text is printed

from photostatic copy without intentional emendations.

 

AMERICA

ARGUMENT.

Apostrophe to the name of America, and its associations with Columbus--

The New England Fathers--Washington and the worthies of the Revo-

lution--The influence of its institutions, manners, and advantages upon

the people of Europe, and the world--The prospects which they open

to the different tastes and pursuits of men--The backwoodsmen and

hunter--The solitary, and lover of Nature--The husbandman--The

patriarch--The evangelist, and honest exiles of every grade and nation

--The unparalleled emigration, and the success and happiness of the

new settlers, exceeding even the dreams of poets--Concluding address.

Is there a name of nation, or of clime,

That sounds above all other names sublime?

That is a chaunt on every freeman's tongue,

That is a theme by every poet sung:

Sweeter than music's voice that flies around

This woe-worn world, wherever man is bound:

That calls to partial life degenerate slaves

Crouching around their fathers' classic graves,

As if Leonidas and Brutus woke

From ruin'd sepulchres, and once more spoke?

Is there a watchword that has never fail'd

To bring relief and victory where 'tis hail'd--

That exiled Poland echoes with a sigh,

And looks to heaven and clasps her swordless thigh?

Say, can the world produce that name, that land,

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Does it upon the list of nations stand?

Where court is wanting, where no princes shine--

America! that name, that land is thine--

Where all are sovereigns, where each man keeps court--

His own good arms his guardians and support--

Where all united, like the sea at rest,

Strength slumbers peaceful on the public breast;

Where, all awakened, like the sea would break,

Each to heave mountains on the foeman's neck--

All that is great and lovely crowd to raise

Thy starry banner, and record thy praise;

And naught degraded, pitiful, or tame,

Can hide itself beside thy mighty name--

For in that word, thy southern clime forgot,

Is veil'd from sight, an undistinguished spot:

Forgot her gold and gems, and ancient pride,

As Andes sink by Alleghany's side.

Soon as we think upon thee, to our sight

What forms arise, what matchless scenes invite!

Columbus comes: amidst the blackening storm--

Amidst the Atlantic's foam we see his form;

His prow is heaving with the billowy swell,

His arm is stretched as if its rage to quell,

Or bind the winds within the swelling sheet--

Or awe the dastard shipmen at his fleet;

Or yet more true, 'midst waves, and treason's roar

To grasp the hop'd, yet undiscovered shore.

And say, kind heaven, shall that bold man turn back

Vex'd and disheartened, on his homeward track!

Say! shall he live till now for one great scheme

To toil and pant, yet find it all a dream;

And backward sail, or downward sink, in vain,

To fathom, if not span, the wrathful main!

Not so--the rockweeds cling around the bow

To greet his eyes amid the surf below;

And now! the wandering birds fly out in haste

To scan the stranger from the watery waste--

Then land appears,--and all his toils are past.

Who next advance? sedate, white--headed sires,

Serene as snowy Alps with moonlit spires--

Again 'tis ocean brings, with angry mien--

Though gentle woman on the deck is seen.

Hail! holy group! ye float as safely here

As Noah's family, to heaven as dear--

And like them come, with flag of peace unfurled

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Philip Bevan -- Minor Poet of Ohio            215

 

To plant a nobler race--a better world.

The painted Indians through the forest's maze(a)

In scattered groups, bewildered, stealthful gaze.

These pallid forms are o'er the waters come,

Perchance to call them to their spirit home:

As once before the Hebrew monarch stood

Stern Samuel's ghost--and chilled the warrior's blood.

These shadows rise, and lift the veil for more,

That o'er the stage in rapid conflict pour--

Bold Kosciusko shakes his dazzling lance--

Impetuous charges young Fayette of France;

Around the steed that carries through the war,

Thy Washington, like meteors round a star.

So fancy bids this brilliant throng increase,

To wreathe America, thy frontispiece:

Unrivalled, beautiful, as ever prest

The meed of glory on a nation's crest.

Nor is the pageant silent--o'er the group

High towering see a giant figure stoop--

The red man's spirit, or the white man's guide;

Still the same guardian of the patriot tide--

Spirit of old that from her wilds awoke,

And then, as now, of naught but freedom spoke;

From all her woods and plains and heights she calls,

From all her rivers and her waterfalls.

Welcome thy name, thy wilderness to one

Who will not bow where freedom has no throne;

But here can worship, and may kiss her feet,

Thus to be lifted to her highest seat--

And wear her mantle gay, and blithesome rove

Where roves the wild deer through the open grove,

Like the mad torrent, wood bird, or the wind--

Untrammeled, unimpeded, unconfined:

Perchance the Nimrod of his day to go,

Careering o'er the waste with gun and bow

To strike the bison in his thundering course,

Or stately elk, or tame the fiery horse,

Or choose from dappled herds the choicest game--

A Robin Hood without a robber's name.

Or is he gloomy with romantic thought,

Here he can nest him in a fav'rite spot,

In shady valley, or deep cleft ravine ;(b)

Like a rude gash on nature's visage seen--

Down in the gorge, while high on either side

Earth's granite teeth and dreadful jaws are spied,

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As if in frolic, she had tried to quaff

The tempest clouds, then frozen to a laugh--

Or scored her bosom for some pent up stream

To run and frolic in the bright sunbeam--

Where he may see the lonely Indian come

Yearly to weep above his father's tomb,

And turn in agony and anger round

If impious hands have torn the hallowed mound--

Is independence sought; and wealth and ease,

Lo! in his farm a rich domain he sees;

Like Eve, unconscious of her loveliness,(c)

Untrimmed and luscious in her native dress,

With sunny meads and glades and bosky shade,

With rills and streams, with fruits and flowers glad,

Where rivulets steal from grassy knolls, and spring

To join the brooks that through the meadows sing--

Where glossy wild fowl mate and swim at will,

Beneath the sheltering willows feeding still.

Whose banks invite the traveller, and spread

Around his feet ripe berries rich and red;

Where plum and cherry in luxuriance twine,

With currant, gooseberry, and purpled vine.

Here no tall domes shall intercept the sun

Before his casement, when the day's begun,

Or chariot rolling home or jarring trade,

Or wrangling citizens his rest invade.

With less dislike he hears the wolf arise

When evening lowers, or night-hawks piercing cries--

His threshold's haunted by no haggard poor,

His granary asks for bolts and locks no more,

No hungry tax-men, in continuous train,

With book and inkhorn come and come again:

No landlord stalks insidious, clothed with smiles,

Corruptions' tool, dissembles and beguiles--

Once in three years familiar--asks your vote;

How many cattle, children, or what not--

Perchance repulsed, to turn his heel and say

Know how to vote, or how to trudge away.

Here plenty smiles beyond Nile's famous vales,

Or Babel's plains, or Syracusian dales;

Here stature, vigor, like to Anak old;(d)

Freedom, abundance, health, their gifts unfold.

Is he a patriarch, hither let him come,

And lead his children to their forest home.

Like Job or Abraham plant his altar fire,

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Philip Bevan -Minor Poet of Ohio          217

 

And build his dwelling as the flames aspire:

Around that house shall joy and beauty spring,

And love divine extend her guardian wing.

Come, honest exiles, from your highland glen,

Your misty lochs and heather--stalwart men;

Come, if your heart for independence pants,

Come and receive the blessings freedom grants.

Thy havens gained, in thousands scattering wide,

Like Greeks on Trojan sands the bands divide--

Run to the woods, the streams, the fields, and sea,

And dance and shout, and feel, thank heaven, they're free;

Whilst Europe's monarchs tremble on their thrones,

And dash, enraged, their crowns against the stones ;(e)

To see their subjects, once a busy train,

Desert their fields and marts, and seek the main;

Sweep o'er the flood, nor cast a look behind,

Till in thy arms, with happiness entwined:

Reckless though kings and counsellors should wait

To drag alone the empty car of state--

Then to their sturdy blows the forests bend:

The mountains melt away; the streams ascend;

Surly the wolf and bear begin their flight,

Rousing their slumb'ring cubs in dead of night.

The astonish'd Indian fled his hunting ground,

Upon some neighb'ring mountain turns him round--

Green on his trail the rising crop he sees,

With smoking cottages among the trees,

Majestic rivers bear the teeming grain,

And fatted kine to meet the distant main--

Wide cities springing from their fertile shores,

Like thrifty willows, budding walls and towers;

Contentment sits on every happy face;

Bluff independence gives each man a grace.

Come, legislators, famed for every plan,

And law, and scheme, to guide dull erring man;

Tell us how much your foresight could devise

To bid this good unparalleled arise;

Or why in all your systems framed of yore,

Ye had not given to men such plan before--

Not pious More in stiff Utopian dress,(f)

Chivalric Sidney in his pensiveness ;(g)

Cambrian! embosomed in your mountain vale,

To you she cries--swift o'er the billows sail.

Switzer, that dreams of liberty and Tell,

Hasten and join her paans lofty swell:

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Tell us how Winkelried and Zuingle died,

Where lov'd Lewellyn o'er his Cambria sigh'd;

Tell us how Wallace liv'd, and what hill stone

Is witness to the covenanter's groan;

And round our raptured children cast the spell

Of storied melody, that pleases well.

Come ye, whose feet are beautiful, afar

Upon the hills as morning's early star;

With words of life, and light to calm our fears;

Come with your fervid eloquence, and tears.

Tell us of him, the lowly man, who went

About our world, and thirty long years spent;

Who more than hero, more than conq'ror gave

His soul to death, and baulk'd the cruel grave.

Come tell us of his griefs, and lead our love

To fasten on that friend of friends above;

Come and we'll sit beneath the leafy shade,

And gently listen to the tidings sad--

We'll sing with you, and pray, and read and weep,

And worship that great Shepherd of the sheep.

Nor vain the call: look o'er the crowded deep,

Athwart the waves that lofty navies sweep?

The winds sing jocund, as they bear them on,

Seas rock them nobly on their glassy throne.

See! Britain pours her enterprise and wealth,

Holland and Germany their lusty health--

From Gallia wit; from rich Italia spring

Bright forms of art, e'en beauty's self takes wing--

The seas are fann'd with swelling canvas white,

As ocean's daughters that convoy their flight;

Nor Coleridge dreaming by his Avon's side.(h)

Such picture drew with fancy for their guide:

Bard, sage, philosopher of every land,

Confess their wonder, and admiring stand

To own the scheme divine, by heaven planned.

These were the scenes that led my feet to stray

Far from my native fields and rills away;

Yet not in dudgeon fled my native home,

Nor without farewell crossed the ocean foam:

Cancelled my portion of her storied fame,

The boast and glory of her ancient name;

Although her subject, liege I could not sign,

Nor bow to sceptre other than divine;

But tearful parted, happily to land

With ready welcome on thy lovely strand,

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Philip Bevan -- Minor Poet of Ohio           219

 

Where gratitude and love inspire the song

And truth sincere is waiting on my tongue;

Nor should I mourn, though bitterly for me,

The price is paid, to gain a home with thee.

A joyous girl that followed in her pride,

Lies in her grave, by yonder green hill side;

Quench'd the rich lustre of her beaming eye,

Hushed the sweet voice that still seems ling'ring nigh:--

Yet's she not dead, for still she comes by night

To soothe my dreams: a spirit cloth'd in light;

And when my spirit flies, her angel hand

Shall guide me home to a celestial land.

'Tis better thus, if life's brief tide appears

Like Babel's stream, a channel for our tears,

To hang our harps, and lay our wearied head

Within the friendly bosom thou hast spread,

Than broken-hearted, friendless, to sink down

Beneath the scorn of pride, or envy's frown.

America I love, as one that loves

A friendly shelter, when he houseless roves:

America is mine, if she'll receive

The humble name I all ingenious give.

America I view, as one that views

A noble lion wet with spangled dews:

But, as he rises from his morning lair,

A gilded serpent curls around him there--

I see a giant, like Delilah's, bound

With silken cords, his locks still flowing round;

I see the sun stained on his golden shield,

The silver moon shows a discolored field;

Yet why should one of all thy rivers bear

To ocean's salty waves the captive's tear?

Why in thy rich savannahs, evergreen,

Around a human form are fetters seen,

Hast thou not wealth and power to burst the chain,

To cast the captive's fetters in the main:

And purchase thee a diadem more bright

Than blazing Phoebus or the queen of night.

Let not earth's despots point across the wave,

And say my song of freedom mocks the slave;

And when the chaunt of liberty goes by

Let no sad captive with a groan reply,

Thus Herbert sung by Mississippi's side,

And tun'd his numbers to the silver tide

Above where red Missouri rolls along

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His turbid current, burst this artless song.

The waters listened and around his feet(i)

Rolled crimson agates for a tribute meet;

Green islands seemed uplifted from the wave

To not applause; the winds forgot to rave:

Glad spirits rustled round his lov'd one's tomb,

And from her dust bright lilies seemed to bloom.

 

NOTES.

(a) A pestilence had preceded the coming of the Pilgrim fathers, and

they encamped, after landing, near' a burial place, where the bodies of the

dead had been interred by the Indians. And it is remarkable that by war

and disease nearly all the tribes have since been carried off in that part

of the country.

(b) This is a sketch of natural scenery in the northern part of Iowa,

and Illinois. The circumstance of the Indians is also taken from life.

(c) The writer has many scenes in his "mind's eye," in which all these

beauties and excellences are clustered, although some people might think

he is dreaming of Arcadia.

(d) The stature of the people in many parts of the western states

strikes an European as being very superior.

(e) It was rumored in the public papers, about the middle of last

summer, that four of the sovereigns of Europe, were about to abdicate their

thrones. And also that some districts in Germany had been depopulated

by the emigration of their inhabitants. Now the reality has taken place,

the monarch of one of the most powerful governments in Europe has

been obliged to fly, with his family, from his throne and kingdom. Sev-

eral other sovereigns appear to be in nearly the same predicament.

(f) Sir Thomas More, author of the "Utopia," was an excellent and

pious man in the reign of Henry VIII, by whom he was beheaded, be-

cause his pious integrity stood in the way of the tyrant.

(g) Sir Philip Sidney, author of the "Arcadia" has been immor-

talized by his conduct at the battle of Zutphen; when severely wounded, and

fainting for water, he took the draught from his parching lips to present it

to a poor soldier who was carried by wounded, and who looked wistfully

at the precious beverage. Some of his last words display his tenderness,

friendship and fortitude--they are contained in a letter to his physician:

MY WIERE:--Veni, Veni, de vita periclitor, et te cupio. Nec vivus

nec mortuus ero ingratus. Pluris, non possum, sed obnixe te oro, ut festines.

(h) It is well known that Southey, Coleridge, and others, contem-

plated coming into the American wilderness, and forming a republic, or

society, upon an ideal plan.

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