Henry Livingston, Jr.
Henry Livingston's Poetry



grapes
The Vine & Oak, a Fable

A vine from noblest lineage sprung
And with the choicest clusters hung,
In purple rob'd reclining lay
And catch'd the noontide's fervid ray:
The num'rous plants that deck the field
Did all the palm of beauty yield,
Pronounc'd her fairest of their train
And hail'd her empress of the plain.

A neighb'ring Oak whose spiry height
In low-hung clouds was hid from sight,
Who dar'd the winds in all their forms
And brav'd a thousand howling storms;
Conscious of worth, sublimely stood
The pride & glory of the wood.

He saw her all defenseless lay
To each invading beast a prey,
And wish'd to clasp her in his arms
And bear her far away from harms.
'Twas love -- 'twas tenderness -- 'twas all
That men the tender passion call.

He urg'd his suit but urg'd in vain,
The vine regardless of his pain
Still flirted with each flippant green
With seeing pleas'd, & being seen

oak leaves


And as the syren Flattery sang
Would o'er the strains ecstatic hang
Enjoy'd the minutes as they rose
Nor fears her bosom discompose.

But now the boding clouds arise
And scowling darkness veils the skies;
Harsh thunders roar -- red lightnings gleam,
And rushing torrents close the scene.

The fawning, adulating crowd
Who late in thronged circles bow'd
Now left their goddess of a day
To the o'erwhelming flood a prey,
Which swell'd a deluge poured around
& tore her helpless from the ground;
Her rifled foliage floated wide
And ruby nectar ting'd the tide.

With eager eyes & heart dismay'd
She look'd, but look'd in vain for aid.
"And are my lovers fled," she cry'd,
"Who at my feet this morning sigh'd,
"And swore my reign would never end
"While youth & beauty had a friend?
"I am unhappy who believ'd!
"And they detested who deceived!
"Curse on that whim call'd maiden pride
"Which made me shun the name of bride,

grapes

"When yonder oak confess'd his flame
"And woo'd me in fair honor's name.
"But now repentance comes too late
"And all forlorn I meet my fate."

The oak who safely wav'd above
Look'd down once more with eyes of love
(Love higher wrought with pity join'd
True mark of an exalted mind,)
Declar'd her coldness could suspend
But not his gen'rous passion end.
Beg'd to renew his am'rous plea -
- As warm for union now as he,
To his embraces, quick she flew
And felt & gave sensations new.

Enrich'd & graced by the sweet prise
He lifts her tendrils to the skies;
Whilst she, protected & carest
Sinks in his arms completely blest.

oak

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New-York Magazine; or Literary Repository
February, 1791; No II. -- Vol. II., p.112-113

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A VINE from noblest lineage sprung,
And with the choicest clusters hung,
In purple rob'd, reclining lay,
And catch'd the fervid noon-tide ray:
The num'rous plants that deck the field
Did all the palm of beauty yield,
Pronounc'd her fairest of their train,
And hail'd her Empress of the Plain.

A neigh'bring Oak, whose spiry height
In low-hung clouds was hid from sight,
Who dar'd the winds in all their forms,
And brav'd a thousand howling storms;
Conscious of worth, sublimely stood
The pride and glory of the wood.

He saw the Vine defenceless lay,
To each invading foe a prey,
And wish'd to clasp her in his arms,
And bear her far away from harms.
'Twas love -- 'twas tenderness -- 'twas all
That men the thrilling passion call.

He urg'd his suit, but urg'd in vain;
The Vine, regardless of his pain,
Still flirted with each flippant green,
With seeing pleas'd and being seen;
And as the syren Flattery sang,
Would o'er the strain extatic hang,
Enjoy'd the minutes as they rose,
Nor fears her bosom discompose.

But now the boding clouds arise,
And scowling darkness vails the skies.
Harsh thunders roar -- red lightnings gleam,
And rushing torrents close the scene.

The fawning adulating crowd,
Who late in thronged circles bow'd,
Now left their mistress of a day
To the o'erwhelming flood a prey;
Which, swell'd a deluge, pour'd around,
And tore her helpless from the ground:
Her rifled foliage floated wide,
And ruby Nectar ting'd the tide.

With eager eyes, and heart dismay'd,
She look'd, but look'd in vain for aid:
"And are my lovers fled," she cry'd,
"Who at my feet thsi morning sigh'd,
"And swore my reign would never end,
"While youth and beauty had a friend?
"I am unhappy, who believ'd!
"And they detested, who deceiv'd!
"Curse on that whim call'd maiden pride,
"Which made me shun the name of bride,
"When yonder Oak confes'd his flame,
"And woo'd me in fair Honour's name.
"-- But now repentance comes too late,
"And all forlorn I meet my fate."

The Oak, who safely wav'd above,
Look'd down once more with eyes of love;
Declar'd her coldness might suspend,
But not his gen'rous passion end:
Begg'd to renew his am'rous plea --
-- As warm for union now as he,
To his embraces quick she flew,
And felt and gave sensations new.

Enrich'd and grac'd by the sweet prize,
He lifts her tendrils to the skies;
Whilst she, protected and carest,
Sinks in his arms, completely blest.
Banks of the Hudson, Feb. 8, 1791.








        
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