rning,
And skill, your various arts in learning?
Outwent they not each native noodle
By far, in playing Yankee-doodle?
Which, as 'twas your New England tune,
'Twas marvellous they took so soon.
And ere the year was fully through,
Did they not learn to foot it too,
And such a dance as ne'er was known
For twenty miles on end lead down?
Did they not lay their heads together,
And gain your art to tar and feather,
When Colonel Nesbitt, thro' the town,
In triumph bore the country-clown?
Oh! what a glorious work to sing
The veteran troops of Britain's king,
Adventuring for th'heroic laurel
With bag of feathers and tar-barrel!
To paint the cart where culprits ride,
And Nesbitt marching at its side.
Great executioner and proud,
Like hangman high, on Holborn road;
And o'er the slow-drawn rumbling car,
The waving ensigns of the war!

* * * * *

=_Philip Freneau, 1752-1832._= (Manual, pp. 486, 511.)

From "An Indian Burying-ground."

=_318._=

In spite of all the learned have said,
I still my old opinion keep;
The posture that we give the dead,
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.

Not so the ancients of these lands;--
The Indian, when from life released,
Again is seated with his friends,
And shares again the joyous feast.

His imaged birds, and painted bowl,
And venison, for a journey dressed,
Bespeak the nature of the soul,--
Activity, that wants no rest.

His bow, for action ready bent,
And arrows, with a head of bone,
Can only mean that life is spent,
And not the finer essence gone.

* * * * *

Here still a lofty rock remains,
On which the curious eye may trace,
Now wasted half by wearing rains,
The fancies of a ruder race.

* * * * *

By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews,
In vestments for the chase arrayed.
The hunter still the deer pursues,
The hunter and the deer--a shade.

* * * * *

=_David Humphreys, 1783-1818._= (Manual, p. 512.)

From "The Happiness of America."

=_319._= RECOLLECTIONS OF THE WAR.

I too, perhaps, should Heaven prolong my date,
The oft-repeated tale shall oft relate;
Shall tell the feelings in the first alarms,
Of some bold enterprise the unequalled charms;
Shall tell from whom I learnt the martial art,
Wit