Dull, melancholy streams,
Dutch politics and schemes,
Owls screeching in the empty street—
Wolves howling at the doors—
Bears breaking into stores;
These make the picture of the town—complete.
[385] In the Daily Advertiser of Dec. 30, 1789, this bore the title, "A View of Columbia," and the opening line was "From Charleston's gay abode." In the 1795 edition the title was changed to "Lysander's Retreat." Text from the edition of 1809.
SANGRADO'S EXPEDITION TO SYLVANIA[386]
Tir'd of his journey o'er a sandy waste,
Sangrado to Sylvania[387] came at last:
A bear-skin coat was round his carcase roll'd,
Shivering with northern winds,[388] that blew so cold:
Dark was the night—much for his shins he fear'd,
For not one lamp in all the town appear'd,
Twelve was the hour—the citizens, in bed,
Slept sound—of bears and wolves no more in dread;
No city-guards, no watchmen hove in sight,
No chyming bell sung out the time of night;
But foggy blasts their wintry music blew
Through shabby trees that round the court-house[389] grew;
At length, alighting at one scurvy dome,
He knock'd—and hop'd the people were at home.—
Ho!—(cry'd the man within) ho! who are you?—
What! heigh!—from Cambria?[390]—have you nothing new?—
Sangrado
Nothing at all—the times are shameful bad;
Money at ten per cent—hard to be had:
With apples and potatoes, our dear cousins
The northern men, are pouring in by dozens:
The French, 'tis said, will soon discharge their king—
This, friend, is all I know—and all I bring—