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Strength of my youth,

All your vigor is gone;
Thoughts of my youth,

Your gay visions are flown.

Days of my youth,

I wish not your recall;
Hairs of my youth,

I'm content ye should fall;
Eyes of my youth,

You much evil have seen;
Cheeks of my youth,

Bathed in tears have you been;
Thoughts of my youth,

You have led me astray;
Strength of my youth,

Why lament your decay :

Days of my age,

Ye will shortly be past;
Pains of my age,

Yet awhile ye can last;
Joys of my age,

In true wisdom delight;
Eyes of my age,

Be religion your light;
Thoughts of my age,

Dread ye not the cold sod;
Hopes of my age,

Be ye fixed on your God.

Philip Freneau.

BORN in New York, N. Y., 1752. Died near Freehold, N. J., 1832.


[With a Tribute to Washington, who was present. -The Poems of Philip Freneau. 1786.]


ARS, bloody wars, and hostile Britain's rage

Have banished long the pleasures of the stage;
From the gay painted scene compelled to part
(Forgot the melting language of the heart),
Constrained to shun the bold theatric show,
To act long tragedies of real woe,

Heroes, once more attend the comic muse;
Forget our failings, and our faults excuse.

In that tine language is our fable drest
Which still unrivalled reigns o'er all the rest;
Of foreign courts the study and the pride,
Who to know this abandon all beside;
Bold, though polite, and ever sure to please,
Correct with grace, and elegant with case,
Soft from the lips its easy accents roll,
Formed to delight and captivate the soul:
In this Eugenia tells her easy lay,
The brilliant work of courtly Beaumarchais:
In this Racine, Voltaire, and Boileau sung,
The noblest poets in the noblest tongue.

If the soft story in our play expressed
Can give a moment's pleasure to your breast,
To you, Great Sir! we must be proud to say
That moment's pleasure shall our pains repay.
Returned from conquest and from glorious toils,
From armies captured and unnumbered spoils;
Ere yet again, with generous France allied,
You rush to battle, humbling British pride;
While arts of peace your kind protection share,
O let the Muses claim an equal cire.
You bade us first our future greatness see,
Inspired by you, we languished to be free;
Even here where Freedom lately sat distrest
See, a new Athens rising in the west !
Fair science blooms where tyrants reigned before,
Red war reluctant leaves our ravaged shore-
Illustrious hero, may you live to see
These new republics powerful, great, and free;
Peace, heaven-born peace, o'er spacious regions spread,

While discord, sinking, veils her ghastly head.


[From the Same.]


WHAT a silly old fellow, much noted of yore,

And known by the name of John, earl of Dunmore,
Has again ventured over to visit your shore.

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And known by the n 'se of Jubill. elia of 11.7 de,
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The reason of this he begra leave to spoluill-
In Fngian ther said you were Compani qond sluil,
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