The uncouth word, a libel on the town,
Would call a proclamation from the crown.[1]
From climes oblique, that fear the sun’s full rays,
Chill’d in their fogs, exclude the gen’rous maize;
A grain whose rich luxuriant growth requires
Short gentle showers, and bright ethereal fires.
But here, tho’ distant from our native shore,
With mutual glee we meet and laugh once more.
The same! I know thee by that yellow face,
That strong complexion of true Indian race,
Which time can never change, nor soil impair,
Nor Alpine snows, nor Turkey’s morbid air;
For endless years, thro’ every mild domain,
Where grows the maize, there thou art sure to reign.
But man, more fickle, the bold license claims,
In different realms to give thee different names.
Thee the soft nations round the warm Levant
Polenta call, the French of course Polente;
Ev’n in thy native regions, how I blush
To hear the Pennsylvanians call thee Mush!
On Hudson’s bunks, while men of Belgic spawn
Insult and eat thee by the name Suppawn.
All spurious appellations, void of truth;
I’ve better known thee from my earliest youth,
Thy name is Hasty-Pudding! thus our sires
Was wont to greet thee fuming from their fires;
And while they argu’d in thy just defence
With logic clear, they thus explain’d the sense:—
“In haste the boiling caldron o’er the blaze,
“Receives and cooks the ready-powder’d maize;
“In haste ’tis serv’d and then in equal haste,
“With cooling milk, we make the sweet repast.
“No carving to be done, no knife to grate
“The tender ear, and wound the stony plate;
“But the smooth spoon, just fitted to the lip,
“And taught with art the yielding mass to dip,
“By frequent journeys to the bowl well stor’d
“Performs the hasty honours of the board.”
Such is thy name, significant and clear,
A name, a sound to every Yankee dear,
- ↑ A certain king, at the time when this was written, was publishing proclamations to prevent American principles from being propagated in his country.
