called, in this collection, "of the Agency of the Honorable John Winthrop, Esq. in the Court of King Charles the Second, Anno Dom. 1662; when he obtained a Charter for the Colony of Connecticut." The poem contains fifteen hundred lines, and the opening scene is at London. The king gives an audience to Winthrop, and, after the usual court ceremonies, addresses the agent.
"Rise up," quoth Charles; "my liberal hand supplies All needful help to every one that cries;
Nor shall I be illiberal to you:
But, prithee, Winthrop, please to let me know
By whom it was your place did first commence,
Your patriarchs that led your tribes from hence?"
"If to declare their worth, is what you ask,
Then I must beg your pardon. That's a task
So worthy due performance, and so great,
As
goes beyond my utterance and conceit:
But virtue never fails; succeeding days
Shall much regard their merits, and shall raise
Men of bright parts and moving oratory,
Who shall emblazon their immortal glory.
But if you ask to gain intelligence,
What were the reasons why they went from hence,
What straits they met with in their way, and there?
These facts I think I'm able to declare.
RELIGION was the cause: Divinity
Having declar'd the gospel shine should be
Extensive as the sun's diurnal shine;
This mov'd our founders to this great design.
And sure the holy spirit from above,
That first did quickning on the waters move,
Inspir'd their minds, and fill'd them with intents,
To bring to pass such glorious events.
from my youth) been employed in the making and working of cloth; and having seen with regret the errors which some people commi' in their preparations about so good and needful a work, am willing to offer a few thoughts to consideration; and having been something at charge in promoting the publishing the foregoing meditations, do here take the liberty to advertise my country people of some rules which ought to be observed, in doing their part, that so the clothiers might be assisted in the better performance of what is expected of them, that the cloth which is made among us may both wear and last, better than it can possibly do. except these following directions are observed by us."
And now they wholly to this work devote,
Mind not the country they are going out:
Their ancient homes they leave, to come no more.
Their weeping friends and kindred on the shore
They bid adieu, and with an aching heart
Shake hands; 'tis hard when dearest friends must part.
But here they part, and leave their parent isle,
Their whilome happy seat. The winds awhile
Are courteous, and conduct them on their way,
To near the midst of the Atlantic sea,
When suddenly their pleasant gales they change
For dismal storms that on the ocean range.
For faithless Eolus, meditating harms,
Breaks up the peace, and priding much in arms,
Unbars the great artillery of heaven,
And at the fatal signal by him given,
The cloudy chariots threatening take the plains; Drawn by wing'd steeds, hard pressing on their reins. These vast battalions, in dire aspect rais'd,
Start from the barriers-night with lightning blaz'd. Whilst clashing wheels resounding thunder cracks, Struck mortals deaf, and heaven astonish'd shakes.
Here the ship captain, in the midnight watch,
Stamps on the deck, and thunders up the hatch;
And to the mariners aloud he cries,
'Now all from safe recumbency arise:
All hands aloft, and stand well to your tack,
Engendering storms have cloth'd the sky with black,
Big tempests threaten to undo the world:
Down topsail, let the mainsail soon be furl'd:
Haste to the foresail, there take up a reef:
'Tis time, boys, now if ever, to be brief;
Aloof for life; let's try to stem the tide,
The ship 's much water, thus we may not ride:
Stand roomer then, let's run before the sea,
That so the ship may feel her steerage way:
Steady at helm!' Swiftly along she scuds,
Before the wind, and cuts the foaming suds.
Sometimes aloft she lifts her prow so high,
As if she'd run her bowsprit through the sky;
Then from the summit ebbs and hurries down,
As if her way were to the centre shown.
Meanwhile our founders in the cabin sat,
Reflecting on their true and sad estate;
Whilst holy Warham's sacred lips did treat
About God's promises and mercies great.
Still more gigantic births spring from the clouds,
Which tore the tatter'd canvass from the shrouds,
And dreadful balls of lightning fill the air,
Shot from the hand of the great Thunderer.
And now a mighty sea the ship o'ertakes,
Which falling on the deck, the bulk-head breaks;
The sailors cling to ropes, and frighted cry,
'The ship is foundered, we die! we die!'
Those in the cabin heard the sailors screech;
All rise, and reverend Warham do beseech,
That he would now lift up to heaven a cry
For preservation in extremity.
He with a faith sure bottom'd on the word
Of Him that was of sea and winds the Lord,
His eyes lifts up to Heaven, his hands extends,
And fervent prayers for deliverance sends.
The winds abate, the threatening waves appease,
And a sweet calm sits regent on the seas,
They bless the name of their deliverer,
Who now they found a God that heareth prayer.
Still further westward on they keep their way,
Ploughing the pavement of the briny sea,
Till the vast ocean they had overpast,
And in Connecticut their anchors cast.
Here came Soheage, and told the company,
The garden of America did lie
Further up the stream, near fifty miles from hence,
Part of which country he himself was prince.
Much ask'd of th' soil, much of the government,
What kings were there? The land of what extent?
All which, by his free answers, when they knew,
They o'er his back a scarlet mantle threw.
And now, invited with fresh southern gales,
They weigh their anchors, and they hoist their sails,
And northward for th' expected country stood,
Upon the smiling pavement of the flood.
At length they entered those awful straits,
Where the stream runs through adamantic gates.
"Twas strange to see the banks advanc'd so high,
As if with Atlas they bore up the sky.
But when those dismal straits were passed through,
A glorious country opens to their view,
Cloth'd all in green, and to the eye presents
Nature's best fruits and richest ornaments.
Cheer'd with the sight, they set all sails a-trip,
And rais'd the English ensign on their ship.
Brave youths, with eager strokes, bend knotty oars,
Glad shouts bring cheerful echoes from the shores.
As when the wounded amorous doth spy
His smiling fortune in his lady's eye,
O how his veins and breast swell with a flood
Of pleasing raptures, that revive his blood!
And grown impatient now of all delays,
No longer he deliberating stays;
But through the force of her resistless charms,
He throws him, soul and body, in her arms.
So we, amazed at these seen delights,
Which to fruition every sense invites,
Our eager minds, already captive made,
Grow most impatient now to be delay'd,
This most delightful country to possess;
And forward, with industrious speed, we press,
Upon the virgin stream, who had, as yet,
Never been violated with a ship.
Upon the banks king Aramamet stood,
And round about his wondering multitude,
Greatly amaz'd at such an uncouth show:
What is 't? they cried. Some say, a great canoe.
Others, a bird that in the air doth fly,
With her long bill, and wings up to the sky.
But other some, whom fear did terrify,
Cried, 'tis some ill-presaging prodigy.
Nothing on earth more impetuous we find
Than terror, when it seizeth on the mind.
Dreadful effects of this did soon appear,
The multitude surpris'd with chilling fear;
With looks distracted, and out staring eyes,
Each scares himself, and others terrifies;
Only the king, who had within his breast,
A heart which foolish fear could not infest,
Perceived the matter, and the ship he hails:
'Now drop your anchors, and unbend your sails;
And if for peace and friendship you are come,
And do desire this land should be your home,
Let some of your chief leaders come to land,
And now with me join their right hand to hand.
Sails lower amain, nor oars now touch the flood,
Down drop the anchors deep into the mud:
Their chiefs repair to land, and with them bring,
Obliging presents for the Indian king.
Majestic Aramamet, with his lords,
Steps forth to meet those guests without his guards;
Meeting he paus'd, astonish'd at the sight;
Such men, such airs, with countenances bright,
He ne'er had seen, nor now to see expecting;
Amaz'd he stood a while! but recollecting
His scatter'd intellect, he cries, 'Who's there?
Whence come you? Seek you with us peace or war?'
'Britons you see, say they, and we are come
From England, happiest seat in Christendom,
Where mighty Charles obligeth sea and land,
To yield obedience to his sceptred hand;
Nor came we here to live with you in wars,
As He knows best, that made sun, moon, and stars;
But rather here to live with
you in peace,
Till day and night's successive changes cease.
This we propose; and this if you approve,
And do respect our neighborhood and love,
Then sell us land, whereon we towns may plant,
And join with us in friendly covenant.'
'What you propose, (quoth he,) is just and good,
And I shall e'er respect your neighborhood;
Land you may have, we value not the soil,
Accounting tillage too severe a toil.'
Then he his own right hand to theirs doth join,
Of his sure friendship the undoubted sign;
Then brings them to his house, and from his boards
Feasts them with what his country best affords.
Whilst here they stay at Aramamet's court,
Hither the neighboring Indian kings resort,
And join with them in articles of peace,
And of their lands make firm conveyances;
And being now by deeds and leagues secure,
Their towns they build, their purchas'd land manure."
Thus far he said; Then said his majesty,
"Methinks, I have a curiosity
To know this country, that for ages past
Lay hid, and you have now found out at last;
This new found river, is it fresh and fair?
What land adjoins to it? Has 't a pleasant air? "
To this question Winthrop replies with several Scripture allusions, and presently branches off into an account of the Connecticut River.
"This gallant stream keeps running from the head
Four hundred miles ere it with Neptune bed,
Passing along hundreds of rivulets,
From either bank its crystal waves besets,
Freely to pay their tributes to this stream,
As being chief and sovereign unto them;
It bears no torrent nor impetuous course,
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