Henry Livingston, Jr.
Henry Livingston's Poetry



HONOR'D patrons here I stand,
With this morsel in my hand!



Lowly bending I present it,
Honor'd patrons don't resent it.



I'm no candidate for fame,
On the wide poetic plain;



Simple facts I've simply stated,
As by Journalists related:
One plain truth fresh from my heart,
I with confidence impart-



None can be more pleas'd than I,
When o'erflows your cup of joy:



Sweetest sleep attend your bed:



Azure skies above your head:



Coffers lin'd with well-got wealth,



Honest fame, and rosy health;



Faithful friends surround and bless you,



Beauty hast'ning to caress you:



Happy thro' th' ensuing year-
-Little muse thy lay forbear.







Manuscript Phonemes
Poughkeepsie Journal Jan 1, 1815

The
News-Boy's Address
to the
Respectable Patrons
of the
JOURNAL.

REPLETE with much event - important - vast!
The year fourteen sinks down to rest at last.

The fierce Napoleon once more took the field,
Too weak to conquer and too proud to yield-
On the Germanic confine, grim he stood,
And snuff'd with horrid smile the scent of blood.

The northern hosts with love of Freedom warm,
Beheld unmov'd the meditated storm;
The hero Alexander led the train,
And Kings and armies fill'd th' extended plain.

At Leipsic's walls the murderous strife began;
Chief fac'd to Chief, and Man oppos'd to Man:
Their streams of flame a thousand cannons pour,
Till Heaven's vast concave echoed the uproar;
Death stalk'd in every shape - at last night came,
And drove to rest the sanguinary train.
But with the rising day uprose the strife,
With a tremendous waste of human life,
Till faint at last, the Gallic bands gave way
And gave their foes the triumph and the day-
The flying crowd nor stop'd, nor turn'd aside,
Till France receiv'd in tears the rushing tide.

Elate with conquest, close pursu'd the foe,
And follow'd up the great decisive blow,
Till Paris open'd wide her brazen gate,
Receiv'd her conquerors and seal'd her fate.

The Corsican, depressed and forlorn
At once of human kind the scourge and scorn,
To Elba's isle was doomed to depart,
With that worst fiend, his own malignant heart.

Contrasted with this monster in disgrace,
Behold the man, the glory of our race;
Imperial Alexander! first of men!
Long in our hearts and o'er thy Russia reign.


My home-sick muse now cleaves the azure sky
Till fair Columbia rises to her eye:
Delightful region! There thy lakes expand,
And here thy noble rivers bless the land:
Thy lofty pine majestic waves its head,
And thy rich plains immeasurably spread;
Thy thonged cities raise their gilded domes,
Of arts and industry the happy homes;
While far and wide, the hardy rural swains
Till their own soil and bless the fruitful plains.

A momentary cloud our sky o'erspreads,
Which holds a gloomy aspect o'er our heads;
But Heav'n in mercy soon will drive away
The gloom and cloud and once more give the day.

Of all the ills with which our race is curs'd,
War is the most terrific - war the first -
Fell demon hie thee hence! down, down to dwell
In thy own hideous native region - Hell.


The year expir'd a chequer'd scene has shown;
Here Britons triumph'd - There were overthrown.

At Washington a Ross in bold array
Swep't all before him in his hostile way;
His lifted torch infuriate, there he tost,
Till ev'ry palace lay in ruin lost.

Columbia's chief base flying, turn'd his eyes,
And saw th' expiring smoke of his late domes arise.
But soon the exulting Briton low must lie,
Patapsco saw him fall, and saw his followers fly.

Far to the north McDonnough's squadron lay
To meet a Downie and dispute the day;
Columbia's Eagle hover'd o'er her star,
And Britain's genius fled in black despair.

There too an English army trembling stood,
And saw the dire disaster on the flood;
But stood not long - Confusion and dismay
Mark'd every foot of their retiring way.
The van was led by pale Provost and Fear,
While boasting Brisbane goaded on the rear.

Where roaring Niagara's foam ascends,
And with the clouds its snowy vapour blends;
A Brown and Drummond long dispute the field,
Nor this can conquer, nor the other yield;
Alternate fortune hovers o'er the strife,
And all the glory lies in waste of life.

But still the Ocean is the happy field,
Which for our brows unfading laurels yield;
Thro' its green wave our keeps triumphant plow,
And to each foe indignant turn the prow.
Immortal fame our naval heroes won,
Our occidental star outshines the orient sun.


Descend celestial nymph, descend sweet peace,
And bid the clangor of contention cease!
Far, far in chaos let the sword be hurl'd,
And dash fierce Ruin's ploughshare from the world.


HONOR'D patrons here I stand,
With this morsel in my hand!
Lowly bending I present it,
Honor'd patrons don't resent it.

I'm no candidate for fame,
On the wide poetic plain;
Simple facts I've simply stated,
As by Journalists related:
One plain truth fresh from my heart,
I with confidence impart-

None can be more pleas'd than I,
When o'erflows your cup of joy:
Sweetest sleep attend your bed:
Azure skies above your head:
Coffers lin'd with well-got wealth,
Honest fame, and rosy health;
Faithful friends surround and bless you,
Beauty hast'ning to caress you:
Happy thro' th' ensuing year-
-Little muse thy lay forbear.


Permit me Gentlemen, to avail myself of this
occasion to express the high consideration,
&c. &c. &c.
        JOHN DOUGHTY

POUGHKEEPSIE JOURNAL OFFICE.
January 1st, 1815







        
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