THE RECLUSE
throughout the state. His songs were many of them improvisations, composed on the spur of the moment; and, while most of them lack elegance and finish, they were roughly rythmical, trite and spicy—exactly suited to the spirit and culture of a pioneer people.
It is said of Rowley that he was a phenomenal extemporizer, being able and ready, at a moment’s notice, to compose a poem on any subject that might be proposed to him. This rare faculty added tremendously to his popularity; and we are not surprised, therefore, to find that his verse is generally marked by a spirit of camaraderie or bonhommie. One of his most noted poems, beginning “Come All Ye Laboring Hands”, is an invitation to the evicted tenants of New York state to come make their homes in Vermont, where there would be no landlords to disposses them of their hard-earned lands or homesteads. It had its effect in populating some of the fertile hillsides of south-western Vermont. Rowley’s poetry did much toward building up among our early settlers that spirit of local state pride and fealty which has since distinguished the sons and daughters of the “Green Mountain State.” He made his early readers feel that, first of all, they were Vermonters—members of a homogeneous and democratic community—that their interests were one, their aspirations mutually dependent. It was this spirit of loyalty to the little nation-state that finally preserved its political and social unity, achieved its independence, keeping it respected at home and abroad till it at last achieved an honored and distinct place in the Union in 1791. Rowley died at Cold Springs in West Haven, Vt., August, 1796. Six years later, 1802, some of his verse, “Selections and Miscellaneous Works of Thomas Rowley”, was published, (Pamphlet, 23 pp.) The following excerpts are typical of his genius:
Come all ye laboring hands
That toil below
Among the rocks and sands—
That plow and sow
Upon your hired lands.
*****
West of the Mountains Green
Lies Rutland fair—
The best that e’er was seen
For soil and air:
Kind Zephyr’s pleasant breeze
Whispers among the trees,
Where men may live at ease,
With prudent care.
Here stands the lofty pine
And makes a show:
As straight as Gunter’s line
Their bodies grow.
Their lofty heads they rear
Amid the atmosphere,
Where winged tribes repair
And sweetly sing.
Here little salmon glide,
So neat and fine,
Where you may be supplied—
With hook and twine;
They are the finest fish
To cook a dainty dish—
As good as one could wish
To feed upon.
The pigeon, goose and duck,
They fill our beds;
The beaver, coon and fox
They crown our heads;
The harmless moose and deer
Are food and clothes to wear—
Nature could do no more
For any land!
This is that noble land
By conquest won—
Took from a savage hand
With sword and gun:
We drove them to the west,
They could not stand the test,
And from the Gallic pest
This land is free!
Also, from his “Ode On Predestination:
If I withhold my hand
From what I am forbid,
Why then should I be damned
For what I never did?
If I let loose my hand
And say it was decreed,
You say I shall be damned
Because I don’t take heed.
