title: The Carrier of the Poughkeepsie Journal to his Patrons, 1 Jan 1823
author: Henry Livingston Jr.
date: 1823
source: Poughkeepsie Journal, 1 Jan 1823 (FDR Library), signed by the carrier Charles R. Lincoln; site: highly probably Henry's by style. URL: https://www.henrylivingston.com/writing/poetry/carrieraddresses/pj1823.htm (fetched via https://web.archive.org/web/20250522013733/https://www.henrylivingston.com/writing/poetry/carrieraddresses/pj1823.htm)
form: mixed (iambic tetrameter; anapestic tetrameter sections; trochaic coda)
lines: 136
attribution: doubtful
notes: Carrier's address (Greek war, etc.). Attributed on style alone; published the same week as the first printing of "A Visit" in Troy. Site heading/headnote: THE CARRIER OF THE POUGHKEEPSIE JOURNAL, | TO HIS PATRONS

An ancient sage was once requir'd
To name the object most desired;
Reply'd in brief, nor less sublime,
Twas sum'd in one short word, 'twas TIME.

With Time the fair creation rose
And steady Time still onward goes
With ceaseless pace, 'till that great day
When in portentous dread array
'Th Angelic herald's trump shall pour
These awful words "TIME IS NO MORE."
But still that solemn hour shall come,
The tide of Time goes rolling on,
And each expiring billow view
'Th expansive heaving of the new.

The varying scenes which mark'd the year,
Which now has finish'd its career,
With hasty pencil I will trace
And at your feet the sketching place.

In Europe the banner of carnage still waves.
O'er a region but recently crowded with slaves,
Yet goaded by wrongs, they have rush'd to the field,
And sworn by their altars they never can yield.

The friends of the Cross in their day of distress
The Czar of the north for assistance address
But the Czar of the north, more of FREEDOM afraid
Than the sabre of Selim, refus'd them his aid;
His armies indignant return to their home
And point with the finger of scorn at the throne.

The Greeks tho' unaided continue the strife
Contending for honor, for freedom and life;
E'en females, resplendent in graces and charms
Rush forward and join in the conflict of arms;
The Cross full before them - Their tyrants in sight
They scornfully spurn, or submission or flight;
They engage - And they triumph - The turban lies low
Too honor'd to fall by so glorious a blow;
The fleets too of Selim, experienc'd their ire
And their high floating crescents were wrapped in fire.
Altho Europe's crowned despots combine to neglect them
May Heavenly goodness behold and protect them.

The congress of royals in secret divan
Respect ev'ry right save the best rights of man;
So safe be preserved the sceptre and crown
No matter if freedom and morals go down.

Confusion and Discord have seized on Spain,
And whether'd a Cortes or Ferdinand reign
Is still undecided - We hope for the best
And TIME will ere long put the question to rest.

The political cauldron of Portugal boils
And Peace shrinks aside at the tumults and broils;
Braganza a despot must shortly remain
Or the people indignant themselves seize the rein.

Old England is tranquil as England can be
With her foot on the land and her hand on the sea;
In her lap, all capacious, the nations still pour
The harvest and gleanings of every shore;
Tho her debt like the millstone is sinking her fast,
She will hurry and bustle and shine to the last.

The Atlantic recrossed, I enraptur'd again
Salute these blest shores and my own native plain;
Hail land of my birth! Here Religion and Science,
And each moral feeling, are in closest alliance,
Where Liberty's banner floats cheeringly high
And accents of happiness rise to the sky;
Hail land of my birth! May thy glories endure
Till the last consummation and time be no more.

In session at Washington, Congress is sitting
In sage consultation on the just and the fitting,
'Twixt the plough and the keel the true balance to hold,
The mystic arcana of finance to unfold,
Draw banks from their mist to the glare of noon day
And tear from finesse all its cobweb away;
Draw the dagger of death on the buccaneer crew
Whose crimes fill with horror the old world and the new,
To the gibbet and sword throw the ruffian a prey,
And commerce glide on in her old smiling way.
Enlightened sages go on as begun
And millions will hail your return with "Well done"

America happy in Freedom and Peace
Sees her frontiers advancing, Hermillions encrease;
Religion delighted sees temples arise
Where prayer and praises ascend to the skies;
The arts and the sciences march hand in hand
And rustic improvements embellish the land;
Cots, hamlets and cities, arising around,
And smiling Contentment is ev'ry where found.
Our canvass too, whitens each river and sea,
For our commerce is open, unshackled and free,
The wants of all nations we wish to supply,
And meet their reciprocal feelings with joy.

O'er our national barques see the spangled flag flying
Our anchor of hope on occasions most trying;
In peace unobtrusive, but in war's fearful rage,
Hurling ruin and death on the foes they engage.

Our favorite hero, our ALLEN has bled,
When in combat unequal he fearlessly led,
In a frail open pinnance, his slender array
To seize on the pirate or fall in the fray,
He sunk - But his name will be dear to us ever,
Can his country forget to deplore him? Oh never;
May a similar flame in our heroes still burn,
When they crowd to his statue and weep o'er his urn.

Festive strains salute my ear,
Strains that hail the new-born year;
In the boys what cheerful faces!
Girls display a thousand graces.
Merchants quit their stores awhile:
Stately matrons deign to smile.
Age itself forgets its care,
On this birthday of the year.

I alas! must see all this,
But forego the beck'ning bliss;
Duty calls me to your feet
With this reeking votive sheet:

Oft before you have I stood
Bending low in gratitude:
Pardon this my last endeavor,
To obtain your smiles and favor.

I could mention winter's terrors
Speak of summer's torrid fervors,
Greet you with a thousand storms,
Dangers in a thousand forms,
Ever frowning in the way
On the news deliver day.

But 'tis neither fair or witty
Thus to urge my PATRONS' pity;
Pity! no, I here disclaim it,
You yourselves wont let me name it.
On her MERIT rests thy Muse,
Grace her kindly if you choose.

As you have smiled on me may heaven smile upon you,
The sky o'er your heads be enchantingly blue,
The streamlets and rivers which flow at your feet
Be smooth as the mirror, as the eglantine sweet,
No thorn in the roses that lie in your road,
And the angel of PEACE hov'ring o'er your abode.