Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes
Read at a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society. No! never such a draught was poured Since Hebe served with nectar The bright Olympians and their Lord, Her over-kind protector, - Since Father Noah squeezed the grape And took to such behaving As would have shamed our grandsire ape Before the days of shaving, - No! ne'er was mingled such a draught In palace, hall, or arbor, As freemen brewed and tyrants quaffed That night in Boston Harbor! The Western war-cloud's crimson stained The Thames, the Clyde, the Shannon; Full many a six-foot grenadier The flattened grass had measured, And many a mother many a year Her tearful memories treasured; Fast spread the tempest's darkening pall, The mighty realms were troubled, The storm broke loose, but first of all The Boston teapot bubbled! An evening party, - only that, No formal invitation, No gold-laced coat, no stiff cravat, No feast in contemplation, No silk-robed dames, no fiddling band, No flowers, no songs, no dancing, - A tribe of red men, axe in hand, - Behold the guests advancing! How fast the stragglers join the throng, From stall and workshop gathered! The lively barber skips along And leaves a chin half-lathered; The smith has flung his hammer down, The horseshoe still is glowing; The truant tapster at the Crown Has left a beer-cask flowing; The cooper's boys have dropped the adze, And trot behind their master; Up run the tarry ship-yard lads, - The crowd is hurrying faster, - Out from the Millpond's purlieus gush The streams of white-faced millers, And down their slippery alleys rush The lusty young Fort-Hillers - The ropewalk lends its 'prentice crew, - The tories seize the omen: "Ay, boys, you'll soon have work to do For England's rebel foemen, 'King Hancock,' Adams, and their gang, That fire the mob with treason, - When these we shoot and those we hang The town will come to reason." On - on to where the tea-ships ride! And now their ranks are forming, - A rush, and up the Dartmouth's side The Mohawk band is swarming! See the fierce natives! What a glimpse Of paint and fur and feather, As all at once the full-grown imps Light on the deck together! A scarf the pigtail's secret keeps, A blanket hides the breeches, - And out the cursed cargo leaps, And overboard it pitches! O woman, at the evening board So gracious, sweet, and purring, So happy while the tea is poured, So blest while spoons are stirring, What martyr can compare with thee, The mother, wife, or daughter, That night, instead of best Bohea, Condemned to milk and water! Ah, little dreams the quiet dame Who plies with' rock and spindle The patient flax, how great a flame Yon little spark shall kindle! The lurid morning shall reveal A fire no king can smother Where British flint and Boston steel Have clashed against each other! Old charters shrivel in its track, His Worship's bench has crumbled, It climbs and clasps the union-jack, Its blazoned pomp is humbled, The flags go down on land and sea Like corn before the reapers; So burned the fire that brewed the tea That Boston served her keepers! The waves that wrought a century's wreck Have rolled o'er whig and tory; The Mohawks on the Dartmouth's deck Still live in song and story; The waters in the rebel bay Have kept the tea-leaf savor; Our old North-Enders in their spray Still taste a Hyson flavor; And Freedom's teacup still o'erflows With ever fresh libations, To cheat of slumber all her foes And cheer the wakening nations. 1874.
Type of Poem: Narrative Poem
Date Written:
Date Published:
Language: English
Keywords: Public Domain
Source: Public Domain Collection
Publisher:
Rights/Permissions: Public Domain
Comments/Notes: This poem is a vivid and animated recounting of the historic event known as the Boston Tea Party. It employs a lively and somewhat irreverent tone, which is immediately established through the playful references to mythic figures such as Hebe and Father Noah in the first two stanzas. A central theme is the triumphant spirit of rebellion against tyranny, embodied in the act of the "freemen" who "brewed and tyrants quaffed" the metaphorical draught in Boston Harbor.
The structure of the poem is rhythmic and well-ordered, with a consistent rhyme scheme that lends a sense of momentum and forward motion to the narrative. The poet also uses vivid and concrete imagery, creating a dynamic scene filled with action and movement. One striking literary device is the use of personification, as in the lines "the Boston teapot bubbled" and "the fire that brewed the tea," which imbues the event with a sense of life and agency. The poem concludes with the idea that the memory of this act of defiance continues to inspire and awaken nations, implying that the spirit of rebellion is an enduring and universal force.
Narrative poetry is a form of poetry that tells a story, often making use of the voices of a narrator and characters as well. Unlike lyric poetry, which focuses on emotions and thoughts, narrative poetry is dedicated to storytelling, weaving tales that captivate readers through plot and character development.
Narrative poems are unique in their ability to combine the depth of storytelling with the expressive qualities of poetry. Here are some defining characteristics:
From ancient epics like "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" to more modern narrative poems, this form continues to engage readers by blending the art of storytelling with the beauty and rhythm of poetry.