Sad and Deplorable News from New England, Poem
Sad and Deplorable News from New-ENGLAND.
IN Seventy Five the Critick of our years
Commenc'd our war with Philip and his Peers.
Whither the Sun in Leo had inſpir'd
A feav'riſh heat, and Pagan ſpirits fir'd?
Whither ſome Rom…ſh Agent hatcht the plot?
Or whither they themſelves? appeareth not.
Whither our Infant-thrivings did invite?
Or whither to our Lands pretended right?
Is hard to ſay; but Indian ſpirits need
No grounds but Luſt to make a Chriſtian bleed.
And here, methinks, I ſee this greazy Lout
With all his Pagan ſlaves coil'd round about,
Aſſuming all the Majeſty his throne
Of rotten ſtump, or of the rugged ſtone
Could yield; caſting ſome bacon-rine-like looks,
Enough to fright a Student from his books,
Thus treat his Peers, and next to them his Commons,
Kennel'd together all without a ſummons.
My friends, our Fathers were not half ſo wiſe
As we our ſelves who ſee with younger eyes:
They ſell our Land to Engliſh Men, who teach
Our Nation alſo faſt to pray and preach.
Of all our countrey they enjoy the beſt,
And quickly they intend to have the reſt.
This no wunnegin ſo big matchit law
Which our old fathers fathers never ſaw.
Theſe Engliſh make, and we muſt keep them too,
Which is too hard for them or us to do.
We drink we ſo big whipt, but Engliſh they
Go ſneep, no more, or elſe a little pay.
Me meddle Squaw me hang'd, our fathers kept
What Squaws they would whether they wak't or ſlept
Now if you'l fight Ile get you Engliſh coats,
And wine to drink out of their Captains throats:
The richeſt Merchants houſes ſhall be ours,
We'll lie no more on mats or dwell in bowers.
We'll have their ſilken wives, take they our Squaws,
They ſhall be whipt by vertue of our Lawes:
If ere we ſtrike, 'tis now before they ſwell
To greater ſwarmes then we know to quell.
This my Reſolve, let neighboring Sachems know,
And every one that hath Club, Gun or Bow,
This was aſſented to, and for a cloſe
He ſtrok't his ſmutty beard, and curſt his foes.
This counſel lightning like their tribes invade,
And ſomething like a muſter's quickly made,
A ragged regiment, a naked ſwarm,
Whom hopes of booty doth with courage arm,
Set forth with bloody hearts, the firſt they meet
Of men or beaſts, they butcher at their feet.
They round our skirts▪ they pare, they fleece, they kill,
And to our bordering towns do what they will.
Poor Hovills (better far then Caeſars Court
In the experience of the meaner ſort)
Receive from them their doom next execution;
By flames reduc'd to horror and confuſion:
Here might be ſeen the ſmoking funeral Piles
Of wildred townes pitcht diſtant many miles.
Here might be ſeen the infant from the breaſt
Snatcht by a pagan hand to laſting reſt:
The mother Rachel-like ſhrieks out my child,
She wrings her hands and raves as ſhe were wild.
The bruitiſh wolves ſuppreſs her anxious moan
By crueltyes more deadly of her own.
Will ſhe or nill the chaſteſt turtle muſt
Taſt of the pangs of their unbridled luſt.
From farmes to farmes, from towns to towns they poſt
They ſtrip, they bind, they raviſh, flea and roaſt.
The beaſts which wont their maſters crib to know,
Over the aſhes of their ſhelters low.
VVhat the inexorable flames do ſpare
More cruel Heathen lug away for fare.
Theſe tidings ebbing from the outward parts,
Makes Tradeſmen caſt aſide their wonted Arts
And ſtudie Arms: the craving Merchants plot
Not to augment but keep what they have got.
And every ſoul which hath but common ſence
Thinks it the time to make a juſt defence.
Alarum every where reſound in ſtreets,
From Weſt ſad tidings with the Eaſtern meets.
Our common Fathers in their Councels cloſe
A martial treaty with the Pagan Foes;
All Anſwers center here, that Fire and Sword
Muſt make their Sachem univerſal Lord.
This armes the Engliſh with a reſolution
To give the vapouring Scab a Retribution.
Heav'ns they conſult by Prayer, the beſt deſign
A furious foe to quell or undermine.
RESOLV'D that from the Maſſachuſets bands
Be preſt on ſervice ſome Herculean hands;
And certainly he well deſerv'd a jerk,
That ſlipt the Collar from ſo good a work.
Some Volunteers, ſome by compulſion goe,
To range the hideous Foreſt for a foe.
The tender Mother now's all bowels grown,
Clings to her ſon as if they'd melt in one.
Wives claſp about their Husbands as the Vine,
Hugs the fair Elm while tears burſt out like Wine.
The new ſprung love in many a Virgin-heart
Swells to a Mountain when the Lovers part.
Nephews and Kindred turn all ſprings of tears,
Their hearts are ſo ſurpriz'd with pannick fears:
But dolefull ſhrieks of captives ſummon Forth
Our walking Caſtles, men of noted worth,
Made all of life, each Captain was a Mars,
His name too ſtrong to ſtand on wat'riſh verſe:
Due praiſe I leave to ſome Poetick hand,
Whoſe Pen and Wits are better at command.
Methinks I ſee the Trojan-Horſe burſt ope,
And ſuch ruſh forth as might with Giants cope:
Theſe firſt the Natives treachery felt, too fierce
For any but eye witneſs to rehearſe.
Yet ſundry times in places where they came
Upon the Indian skins they carv'd their name.
The trees ſtood Centinels, and bullets flew
From every buſh (a ſhelter for their crew)
Hence came our wounds and deaths from every ſide,
While ſculking enemies ſquat undeſcri'd,
That every ſtump ſhot like a Muſquetier,
And Bowes with Arrows every tree did bear.
The Swamps were Courts of Guard, thither retir'd
The ſtragling blew-Coats when their Guns were fir'd
In dark Meanders, and theſe winding Groves,
Where Bears and Panthers with their Monarch moves.
Theſe far more cruel ſlily hidden lay,
Expecting Engliſh men to move that way.
One Party lets them ſlip, the other greets
Them with the next thing to their winding ſheets;
Moſt fall, the reſt thus ſtartled back return,
And from their by-paſt foes receive an urn.
Here fell a Captain, to be nam'd with tears,
Who for his Courage left not many Peers,
With many more who ſcarce a number left
To tell how treacherouſly they were bereft.
This fluſht the Pagan-courage, now they think
The victory theirs, not lacking meat or drink.
The ranging Wolves find here and there a prey,
And having fill'd their paunch they run away
By their Hoſts light, the thanks which they return
Is to lead Captives, and their Taverns burn.
Many whoſe thrift had ſtor'd for after-uſe
Suſtain their wicked plunder and abuſe.
Poor people ſpying an unwonted light,
Fearing a Martyrdom, in ſudden fright
Leap to the door to fly, but all in vain,
They are ſurrounded with a Pagan train;
Their firſt ſalute is death, which if they ſhun,
Some are condemn'd the Gauntelet to run;
Death would a mercy prove to ſuch as thoſe
Who feel the rigour of ſuch helliſh foes.
Poſts daily on their Pegaſe… Steeds,
Bring ſad Reports of worſe then Nero's deeds;
Such bruitiſh Murthers as would paper ſtain,
Not to be heard in a Domitians Reign.
The Field which Nature hid is common laid,
And Mothers Bodies ript for lack of aid.
The ſecret Cabinets which Nature meant
To hide her Maſter-Piece is open rent;
The half-form'd Infant there receives a death
Before it ſees the light, or draw its breath;
Many hot welcomes from the Natives arms,
Hid in their ſculking holes, many alarms
Our brethren had, and weary weary trants,
Sometimes in melting heats and pinching wants:
Sometimes the Clouds with ſympathizing tears,
Ready to burſt, diſcharg'd about their ears;
Sometimes on craggy hills, anon in bogs
And miry ſwamps better befitting hogs,
And after tedious Marches, little boaſt
Is to be heard of ſtew'd, or bak'd, or roaſt,
Their b…ds are Hurdles, open houſe they keep
Through ſhady boughs the ſta…s upon them peep;
Their Chryſtal drink drawn from the Mothers breaſt
Diſpoſes not to mirth, but ſleep and reſt.
Thus many days and weeks ſome months run out
To find and quell the vagabonding Rout,
Who like Inchanted Caſtles fair appear,
But all is vaniſht if you come but near;
Juſt ſo we might the Pagan Archers track
With towns and Merchandize upon their back;
And thouſands in the South who ſetled down,
To all the Points and Winds are quickly blown.
At many Meetings of their fleeting crew,
From whom, like hail, arrows and bullets flew:
The Engliſh courage with whole ſwarmes diſpute,
Hundreds they hack in pieces in purſuit.
Sed haud impune, Engliſh ſides do feel,
As well as tawny skins, the lead and ſteel;
And ſome ſuch gallant Sparks by bullets fell,
As might have curſt the Powder back to Hell:
Had only Swords theſe Skirmiſhes decided
All Pagan Sculls had been long ſince divided.
The lingring War out-lives the Summer-Sun,
Who hence departs hoping it might be done
Ere his Return at Spring; but ah, he'll find
The Sword ſtill drawn, men of unchanged mind.
Cold Winter now nibbles at hands and toes
And ſhrewdly pinches both our friends and foes.
Fierce Boreas whips the Pagan tribe together,
Adviſing them to fit for Foes and Weather:
The Axe which late had taſted Chriſtian blood,
Now ſets its ſteely teeth to feaſt on wood.
The foreſts ſuffer now, by weight conſtrain'd
To kiſs the Earth with ſouldiers lately brain'd.
The lofty Oaks and Aſh do wag their head
To ſee ſo many of their Neighbors dead;
Their fallen Carcaſſes are carried thence
To ſtand our Enemies in their defence.
Their Myrmidous incloſ'd with clefts of Trees,
Are buſie like the Ants or nimble Bees:
And firſt they limber Poles fix in the ground,
In figure of the Heavens convex … all round
They draw their Arras-mats, and skins of beaſts,
And under theſe the E…ves do make their Neſts.
Rome took more time to grow then twice ſix hours,
But half that time will ſerve for Indian bowers.
A City ſhall be rear'd in one days ſpace
As ſhall an hundred Engliſh-men out-face.
In ſeveral Precincts there ſwarmes unite,
Rather to keep a Winter-Guard then fight;
A dem and diſmal Swamp ſome Scout had found
Whoſe boſom was a ſpot of riſing ground,
Hedg'd up with mighty Oaks, Maples and Aſhes,
Nurſt up with ſprings, quick bogs, and miry plaſhes,
A Place which Nature coin'd on very nonce
For tygers, not for Men to be a Sconce.
'Twas here theſe Monſters, ſhap'd and fac'd like men,
Took up their Rendezvouz and b…umal den,
Deeming the depth of ſnow, hail, froſt and ice,
Would make our Infantry more tame and wiſe,
Then by forſaking beds and loving Wives,
Meerly for Indian skins to hazard lives:
Theſe hopes had ſomthing calm'd the boiling paſſion
Of this in…orrigible warlike Nation.
During this ſhort Parentheſis of Peace
Our forces found, but left him not at eaſe.
Here Engliſh valour moſt illuſtrious ſhone,
Finding their numbers ten times ten to one.
A ſhower of leaden Hail our Capt…ins feel,
Which made the braveſt Blades among us reel.
Like to ſome Ant-hill newly ſpurn'd abroad,
Where each takes heels and bears away his load:
Inſtead of Plate and Jewels Indian Trayes,
With baskets up they ſnatch, and run their wayes.
Sundry the Flames arreſt, and ſome the blade,
By bullets heaps on heaps of Indians laid.
The Flames like lightning in their narrow ſtreets,
Dart in the face of every one it meets.
Here might be heard an hideous Indian cry,
O… wounded ones who in the Wigwams fry.
H…d we been Cannibals, here might we feaſt
On brave Weſtphalia Gammons ready dreſt.
The tawny Hue is Ethiopick made
Of ſuch, on whom Vulcan his clutches laid.
Their fate was ſudden, our advantage great
To give them once for all a grand defeat;
But tedious travel had ſo crampt our Toes,
It was too hard a task to chaſe the foes.
Diſtinctneſs in the numbers of the ſlain,
Or the account of Pagans which remain,
Are both uncertain, loſſes of our own
Are too too ſadly felt, too ſadly known.
Warr digs a common Grave for friends and foes,
Captains in with the private ſouldier throws.
Six of our Leaders in the firſt aſſault,
Crave re-admiſſion to their Mothers Vault,
Who had they fell in ancient Homers days,
Had been enroll'd with Hecatombs of praiſe.
As Clouds diſperſt, the Natives Troops divide,
And like the Streams along the thickets glide.
Some breathing time we had, and ſhort God knows,
But new alarums from recruited foes
Bounce at our ears, the mountain clouds of ſmoke
From martyr'd towns the Heav'ns for aid invoke;
Churches, Barns, Houſes, with moſt pond'rous things
Made volatile, flie o're the Land with wings.
Hundreds of Cattel now they ſacrifice
For aiery ſpirits up to gormandize;
And to the Molech of their Helliſh guts,
Which craves the fleſh in groſs, their Ale in Butts.
Lancaſter, Mendon, Medfield, wildred Groton,
With many Villages by me not thought on,
Dy in their youth by Fire that uſeful foe,
Which this grand Cheat the world will overflow.
The wandring Prieſt to every one he meets
Preaches his Churches Funeral in the ſtreets.
Sheep from their Fold are frighted. Keepers too
Put to their trumps not knowing what to do.
This Monſter War hath hatcht a beauteous Dove
In dogged hearts, of moſt unfeigned love;
Fraternal love, the livery of a Saint
Being come in faſhion, though by ſad conſtraint;
Which if it thrive and proſper with us long
Will make New-England fourty thouſand ſtrong.
But off the Table Hand, let this ſuffice
As the Abridgement of our miſeries.
If Mildew Famine, Sword, and Fired Towns,
If Slaughter, Captivating, Deaths and Wounds,
If daily Whippings once Reform our Ways,
Theſe all will iſſue in our Fathers Praiſe;
If otherwiſe, the Sword muſt never reſt
Till all New-Englands Glory it diveſt.
FINIS.
End of the text · Benjamin Tompson, Sad and Deplorable News from New England (1676)