Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GENERAL GAGE'S SOLILOQUY, by PHILIP FRENEAU


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

GENERAL GAGE'S SOLILOQUY, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Why, let the stricken deer go weep
Last Line: "let north and george themselves such battles fight."
Subject(s): American Revolution; Gage, Thomas (1721-1787)


Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
The hart, unwounded, play --
For some must write, while some must speak;
So runs the world away!
Shakespeare.

"DESTRUCTION waits my call -- some demon say
Why does destruction linger on her way!
Charlestown is burnt, and Warren is deceased --
Heav'ns! shall we never be from war released?

Ten years the Greeks besieged the walls of Troy,
But when did Grecians their own towns destroy?
Yes! that's the point -- Let those who will, say, No;
If GEORGE and NORTH decree -- it must be so.

DOUBTS, black as night, disturb my loved repose --
Men that were once my friends have turned my foes --
What if we conquer this rebellious town.
Suppose we burn it, storm it, tear it down --
This land's like Hydra, cut off but one head,
And TEN shall rise, and dare you in its stead.
If to subdue a league or two of coast
Requires a navy, and so large a host,
How shall a length of twice seven hundred miles
Be brought to bend to two European isles? --
And that, when all their utmost strength unite,
When twelve dominions swear to arm and fight,
When the same spirit darts from every eye,
One fixed resolve to gain their point or die.

As for myself -- true -- I was born to fight
As George commands, let him be wrong or right,
While from his hand I squeeze the golden prize
I'll ask no questions, and he'll tell no lies --
But did I swear, I ask my heart again,
In their base projects monarchs to maintain?
Yes -- when REBELLION her artillery brings
And aims her arrows at the best of kings,
I stand a champion in my monarch's cause --
The men are rebels that resist his laws.

A VICEROY I -- like modern monarchs, stay
Safe in the town -- let others guide the fray:
A life, like mine, is of no common worth:
'Twere wrong, by heaven, that I should sally forth!
A random bullet from a RIFLE sent
Might pierce my heart; and ruin NORTH'S intent:
Let others combat in the dusty field,
Let petty captains scorn to live or yield,
I'll send my ships to neighbouring isles, where stray
Unnumb'red herds, and steal those herds away,
I'll strike the women in this town with awe,
And make them tremhle at my martial law.

Should gracious heaven befriend our troops and fleet,
And throw this vast dominion at my feet,
How would Britannia echo with my fame!
What endless honours would await my name!
In every province should the traveller see
Recording marble raised, to honour me --
Hard by the lakes, my sovereign lord would grant
A rural empire to supply my want,
A manor would but poorly serve my turn,
Less than a kingdom from my soul I scorn!
An ample kingdom round Ontario's lake
By heaven, should be the least reward Ied take,
There might I reign, unrivalled and alone,
An ocean and an empire of my own! --
What though the scribblers and the wits might say,
He built his pile on vanquished LIBERTY --
Let others meanly dread the slanderous tongue,
While I obey my king, can I do wrong? --

Then, to accomplish all my soul's desire,
Let red-hot bullets set their towns on fire
May heaven, if so the righteous judgment pass,
Change earth to steel, the sky to solid brass,
Let hosts combined, from Europe centring here,
Strike this base offspring with alarm and fear;
Let heaven's broad concave to the center ring,
And blackest night expand her sable wing,
The infernal powers in dusky combat join,
Wing the swift ball, or spring the deadly mine;
(Since 'tis most true, tho' some may think it odd,
The foes of Britain are the foes of God:)
Let bombs, like comets, kindle all the air,
Let cruel famine prompt the orphan's prayer,
And every ill that war or want can bring
Be showered on subjects that renounce their king.

What is their plea? -- our sovereign only meant
This people should be taxed without consent.
Ten years the court with secret cunning tryed
To gain this point -- the event their hopes belyed:
How should they else than sometimes miss the mark
Who sleep at helm, yet think to steer the barque?
NORTH, take advice; thy lucky genius show,
Dispatch Sir JEFFERY to the states below.
That gloomy prince, whom mortals Satan call,
Must help us quickly, if he help at all --
You strive in vain by force of bribes to tie,
They see thro' all your schemes with half an eye,
If open force with secret bribes I join,
The contest sickens -- and the day is mine.

But hark the trumpet's clangor -- hark -- ah me!
What means this march of Washington and Lee?
When men, like these, such distant marches make,
Fate whispers something -- that we can't mistake; --
When men like these defy my martial rule,
Good heaven! it is no time to play the fool --
Perhaps, they for their country's freedom rise;
North has, perhaps, deceived me with his lies. --
If George at last a tyrant should be found,
A cruel tyrant, by no sanctions bound,
And I, myself, in an unrighteous cause
Be sent to execute the worst of laws,
How will those dead whom I conjured to fight --
Who sunk in arms to everlasting night,
Whose blood the conquering foe conspired to spill
At Lexington and Bunker's fatal hill,
Whose mangled corpses scanty graves embrace --
Rise from those graves, and curse me to my face? --

Alas! that e'er ambition bade me roam,
Or thirst of power forsake my native home --
What shall I do? -- there, crowd the hostile bands;
Here, waits a navy to receive commands --
I speak the language of my heart -- shall I
Steal off by night, and o'er the ocean fly,
Like a lost man to unknown regions stray,
And to oblivion leave this stormy day? --
Or shall I to Britannia's shores again,
And, big with lies, conceal my thousands slain? --

Yes -- to some distant clime my course I steer,
To any country rather than be here,
To worlds, where Reason scarce exerts her law,
A branch-built cottage, and a bed of straw --
Even Scotland's coast seems charming in my fight,
And frozen Zembla yields a strange delight --
But such vexations in my bosom burn,
That to these shores I never will return,
'Till fruits and flowers on Greenland's coasts be known,
And frosts are thawed in climates once their own.

Ye souls of fire, who burn for chief command,
Come! take my place in this disastrous land;
To wars like these I bid a long good night --
Let NORTH and GEORGE themselves such battles fight."






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