Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON THE FALL OF GENERAL EARL CORNWALLIS, 1781, by PHILIP FRENEAU


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ON THE FALL OF GENERAL EARL CORNWALLIS, 1781, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: A chieftain, formed on howe, burgoyne, and gage
Last Line: Shrink from an injured world -- and fare like you.
Subject(s): American Revolution; Cornwallis, Charles (1738-1805); Yorktown Campaign (1781)


Who, with about seven thousand Men, surrendered themselves
prisoners of war, to the Allied Armies of AMERICA and
FRANCE, on the memorable 19th of October, 1781.




A CHIEFTAIN, formed on Howe, Burgoyne, and Gage,
Once more, nor this the last, provokes my rage --
Who saw these Nimrods first for conquest burn!
Who has not seen them to the dust return?
This conqueror next, who ravaged all our fields,
Foe to the Rights of Man, Cornwallis yields! --
None e'er before essayed such desperate crimes,
Alone he stood, arch-butcher of the times,
Roved, uncontrouled, this wasted country o'er,
Strewed plains with dead, and bathed his jaws with gore.

'Twas thus the wolf, who sought by night his prey,
And plundered all he met with on his way,
Stole what he could, and murdered as he passed,
Chanced on a trap, and lost his head at last.
What pen can write, what human tongue declare
The endless murders of this LORD OF WAR!
Nature in him disgraced the form divine;
Nature mistook, she meant him for a -- swine:
That eye his forehead, to her shame, adorns;
Blush! Nature, blush -- bestow him tail and horns! --
By him the orphan mourns -- the widowed dame
Saw ruin spreading in the wasteful flame;
Gashed o'er with wounds, beheld with streaming eye
A son, a brother, or a consort, die! --
Through ruined realms bones lie without a tomb,
And souls he sped to their eternal doom,
Who else had lived, and seen their toils again
Blessed by the genius of the rural reign.

Convinced we are, no foreign spot of earth
But Britain only, gave this warrior birth:
That white-cliffed isle, the vengeful tyrants' den,
Has sent us monsters, where we looked for men.
When memory paints their horrid deeds anew,
And brings these m urdering miscreants to our view,
We ask the leaders of these bloody bands,
Can they expect compassion at our hands? --

But may this year, the glorious EIGHTY-ONE,
Conclude successful, and all wars be done;
This brilliant year their total downfall see,
And what Cornwallis is, Sir HENRY be.

O come the time, nor distant be the day,
When our swift navy shall its wings display;
Manned by brave souls, to seek the British shore,
The wrongs revenging that their fathers bore:
As earthquakes shook the huge COLOSSUS down
So shake the wearer of the British crown:
Unpitying next his hated offspring slay,
Or into foreign lands by force convey
Give them their turn to pine and die in chains,
'Till not one tyrant of the race remains.

Thou, who residest on those thrice happy shores,
Where white-robed peace her envied blessings pours,
Stay, and enjoy the pleasures that she yields;
But come not, stranger, to our wasted fields,
For warlike hosts on every plain appear,
War damps the beauties of the rising year:
In vain the groves their bloomy sweets display;
War's clouded winter chills the charms of May:
Here human blood the trampled harvest stains;
Here bones of men yet whiten all the plains;
Seas teem with dead; and our unhappy shore
Forever blushes with its children's gore.

But turn your eyes -- behold the tyrant fall,
Nor say -- Cornwallis has achieved it all.

All mean revenge AMERICANS disdain,
Oft have they proved it, and now prove again;
With nobler fires their generous bosoms glow;
Still in the captive they forget the foe: --
But when a nation takes a wrongful cause,
And hostile turns to heaven's and nature's laws;
When, sacrificing at ambition's shrine,
Kings slight the mandates of the power divine,
And devastation spread on every side,
To gratify their malice or their pride,
And send their slaves their projects to fulfil,
To wrest our freedom, or our blood to spill: --
Such to forgive, is virtue too sublime;
For, even compassion has been found a crime.

A prophet once, for miracles renowned,
Bade Joash smite the arrows on the ground --
Taking the mystic shafts, the prince obeyed,
Thrice smote them on the earth -- and then he stayed --

Grieved when he saw full victory denyed,
"Six times you should have smote," the prophet cryed,
"Then had proud Syria sunk beneath your power; --
" Now thrice you smite her -- but shall smite no more.

Cornwallis! thou art ranked among the great;
Such was the will of all-controuling fate.
As mighty men, who lived in days of yore,
Were figured out some centuries before;
So you with them in equal honour join,
Your great precursor's name was Jack Burgoyne!
Like you was he, a man in arms renowned,
Who, hot for conquest, sailed the ocean round;
This, this was he, who scoured the woods for praise,
And burnt down cities to describe the blaze!

So, while on fire, his harp Rome's tyrant strung,
And as the buildings flamed, old Nero sung.

Who could have guessed the purpose of the fates,
When that vain boaster bowed to conquering GATES!
Then sung the sisters as the wheel went round,
(Could we have heard the invigorating sound)
Thus surely did the fatal sisters sing --
"When just four years do this same season bring,
"And in his annual journey, when the sun
"Four times completely shall his circuit run,
"An Angel then shall rid you of your fears,
"By binding Satan for a thousand years,
"Shall lash his godship to the infernal shore,
"To waste the nations, and deceive no more;
"Make wars, and blood, and tyranny to cease,
"And hush the rage of Europe into peace."

Joy to your lordship, and your high descent,
You are the Satan that the sisters meant.
Too soon you found your race of ruin run,
Your conquests ended, and your battles done!
But that to live is better than to die,
And life you chose, though life with infamy,
You should have climbed your loftiest vessel's mast,
Took one sad survey of your wanton waste,
Then plunged forever to the wat'ry bed,
Lost all your honours -- even your memory dead.

Ashamed to live, and yet afraid to die,
Your courage slackened as your foe drew nigh --
Ungrateful chief, to yield your favorite band
To chains and prisons, in a hostile land:
To the wide world your Negro friends to cast,
And leave your Tories to be hanged at last! --
You should have fought with horror and amaze,
'Till scorched to cinders in the cannon blaze,
'Till all your host of Gog-magogs was slain,
Doomed to disgrace no human shape again --
From depths of woods this hornet host he drew --
Swift from the south the envenom' d ruffians flew; --
Destruction followed at their cloven feet,
'Till you, Fayette, constrained them to retreat,
And held them close, 'till thy famed squadron came,
DE GRASSE, completing their eternal shame.

When the loud cannon s unremitting glare,
And red hot balls compelled you to despair,
How could you stand to meet your generous foe?
Did not the sight confound with rage and woe? --
In thy great soul what god-like virtues shine,
What inborn greatness, WASHINGTON, is thine! --
Else had no prisoner trod these lands to-day,
All, with his lordship, had been swept away,
All doomed alike death's vermin to regale,
Nor one been left to tell the dreadful tale!
But his own terms the mean invader named --
HE nobly gave the prisoner all he claimed,
And bade Cornwallis, conquered and distrefsed,
Bear all his torments in one tortured breast.

Now curst with life, a foe to man and God,
Like Cain, we drive you to the land of Nod:
He with a brother's blood his hands did stain,
One brother he -- you have a thousand slain.
On eagles' wings explore your homeward flight,
Plan future conquests, and new battles fight:
Such horrid deeds your murdering host defame
We grieve to think their form, and ours, the same:
Remorse be theirs! -- even you, though much too late,
Shall curse the day you languished to be great:
And, may destruction rush, with speedy wing,
Low as yourself, to drag each tyrant king;
Swept from this stage, the race that vex our ball,
Deep in the dust may every monarch fall,
To wasted nations bid a long adieu,
Shrink from an injured world -- and fare like YOU.






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