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Full joyful 'tis & soul to win,
For he that winneth souls is wise ; Nuw hark! the holy strains begin,
And thus the sainted preacher cries :* • Pilgrim, burden'd with thy sin, Come the way to Zion's gate, There, till Mercy let thee in, Knock and weep, and watch and wait.
Knock!-He knows the sinner's cry: Weep-He loves the mourner's tears : Watch Sfor saving grace is nigh:
Wait!-till heavenly light appears.
Safe-from all the lures of vice,
Bless'd—the mighty debt to owe.
Fear—the hope of Heaven shall fly,
Pain-in endless bliss expire."
Yet still my days of grief I find ; The former clouds' collected gloom
Still sadden the reflecting mind;
Will of their evil some retain ;
And will not look erect again.
To lose what I possess'd before,
The brave Sir Eustace is no more :
Stern, rugged men my conduct view; They chide my wish, they bar my door,
'Tis hard-I weep-you see I do.Most you, my friends, no longer stay? Thus quickly all my pleasures end; But I'll remember, when I pray,
My kind physician and his friend : And those sad hours, you deign to spend
With me, i shall requite them all; Sir Eustace for his friends shall send,
And thank their love at Greyling Hall
Leads him to think of joys again ;
His views of heavenly kind remain :-
That spirit wounded, lost, resign'd ?
The more he felt misfortune's blow;
And poverty had laid him low :
At length this humble spirit gave;
And bound him to his fiends a slave. Though the wild thoughts had touch'd his brain
Then was he free : -50, forth he ran; To soothe or threat, aliko were vain :
He spake of fiends, look'd wild and wan; Year after year, the hurried man
Obey'd those fiends from place to place; Till his religious change began
To form a frenzied child of grace.
The mind reposed; by slow degrees
To the tormented spirit, ease :
Felt or believed their power had end ;“ 'Tis faith," he cried, “my bosom frees,
And now my Saviour is my friend." But ah! though time can yield relief,
And soften woes it cannot cure ; Would we not suffer pain and grief,
To have our reason sound and sure ? Then let us keep our bosoms pure,
Our fancy's favourite flights suppress ; Prepare the body to endure,
And bend the mind to meet distress ; And then His guardian care implore, Whom demons dread and men adore.
THE HALL OF JUSTICE.
Confiteor facere hoc annos; sed et altera causa est, Anxielas animi, continuusque dolor.
MAGISTRATE, VAGRANT, CONSTABLE, &c.
And let me to thy master speak;
And hear me, or my heart will break.
• It has been suggested to me, that this change from restlessness to repose, in the mind of Sir Eustace, is wrought by a methodistic call; and it is admitted to be such: a sober and rational conversion could not have happened while the disorder of the brain continued: yet the verses which follow, in a different measure, are not intended to make any religious persuasion appear ridiculous; they are to be supposed as the effect of memory in the disordered mind of the speaker, and, though evi. dently enthusiastic in respect to language, are not meant to convey any impropriety of sentiment.
MAGISTRATE. Fond wretch ! and what canst thou relate,
But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin ? Thy crime is proved, thou know'st thy fate; But come, thy tale-begin, begin!
I seized the food, your witness saw;
But yielded to a stronger law.
All human laws are frail and weak?
And hear me, or my heart will break. In this, th' adopted babe I hold
With anxious fondness to my breast, My heart's sole comfort I behold,
More dear than life, when life was bless'd; I saw her pining, sainting, cold,
I begg’d—but vain was my request. I saw the tempting food, and seized
My infant sufferer found relief; And, in the pilfer'd treasure pleased,
Smiled on my guilt, and hush'd my grief. But I have griefs of other kind,
Troubles and sorrows more severe; Give me to ease my tortured mind,
Lend to my woes a patient ear; And let me-if I may not find
A friend to help-find one to hear. Yet nameless let me plead—my name
Would only wake the cry of scorn ; A child of sin, conceived in shame,
Brought forth in wo, lo misery born. My mother dead, my father lost,
I wander'd with a vagrant crew ; A common care, a common cost,
Their sorrows and their sins I knew; With them, by want on error forced,
Like them, I base and guilty grew. Few are my years, not so my crimes ;
The age, which these sad looks declare, Is Sorrow's work, it is not Time's,
And I am old in shame and care. Taught to believe the world a place
Where every stranger was a foe, Train'd in the arts that mark our race,
To what new people could I go?
Or live as virtue dictates? No!
And little found of grief or joy ;
When first I loved—the Gipsy-Boy. A sturdy youth he was and tall,
His looks would all his soul declare; His piercing eyes were deep and small,
And strongly curl’d his raven hair. Yes, Aaron had each manly charm,
All in the May of youthful pride,
And every other arm defied.-
(Whom will not love and power divide ?) I rose, their wrathful souls to calm,
Not yet in sinful combat tried.
His father was our party's chief,
And dark and dreadful was his look; His presence fill'd my heart with grief,
Although to me he kindly spoke. With Aaron I delighted went,
His favour was my bliss and pride ; In growing hope our days we spent,
Love growing charms in either spied, It saw them, all which Nature lent,
It lent them, all which she denied. Could I the father's kindness prize,
Or grateful looks on him bestow, Whom I beheld in wrath arise,
When Aaron sunk beneath his blow? He drove him down with wicked hand,
It was a dreadful sight to see; Then vex'd him, till he left the land
And told his cruel love to me ;The clan were all at his command,
Whatever his command might be. The night was dark, the lanes were deep,
And one by one they took their way ; He bade me lay me down and sleep,
I only wept and wish'd for day
Accursed was the force ho usea,
and be so refused !
Can I in gentle language speak? My woes are deep, my words are strong,
And hear me, or my heart will break.
True, I was not to virtue train'd,
Yet well I knew my deeds were ill; By each offence my heart was pain'd,
I wept, but I offended still ; My better thoughts my life disdain'd,
But yet the viler led my will.
My husband died, and now no more
My smile was sought, or ask'd my hand A widow'd vagrant, vile and poor,
Beneath a vagrant's vile command.
Ceaseless I roved the country round,
To win my bread by fraudful arts, And long a poor subsistence found,
By spreading nets for simple hearts.
Though poor, and abject, and despised;
Their fortunes to the crowd I told; I gave the young the love they prized,
And promised wealth to bless the old ; Schemes for the doubtful I devised,
And charms for the forsaken sold.
At length for arts like these confined
In prison with a lawless crew, I soon perceived a kindred mind,
And there my long-lost daughter knew.
Of all our daring clan not one
Would on the doubtful subject dwell ; For all esteem'd the injured son,
And feard the tale which he could tell. But I had mightier cause for fear,
For slow and mournful round my bed I saw a dreadful form appear,
It came when I and Aaron wed. (Yes! we were wed, I know my crime,
We slept beneath the elmin tree; But I was grieving all the time,
And Aaron frown'd my tears to see. For he not yet had felt the pain
That rankles in a wounded breast; He waked to sin, then slept again,
Forsook his God, yet took his rest.But I was forced to feign delight,
And joy in mirth and music sought,And memory now recalls the night,
With such surprise and horror fraught, That reason felt a moment’s flight,
And left a mind to madness wrought.)
I felt a hand as cold as death;
A chilling terror stopp'd my breath.-
For there my father-husband stood, — And thus he said :-“Will God allow,
The great avenger, just and good, A wife to break her marriage vow?
A son to shed his father's blood ?” I trembled at the dismal sounds,
But vainly strove a word to say ; So, pointing to his bleeding wounds,
The threatening spectre stalk'd away.* I brought a lovely daughter forth,
His father's child, in Aaron's bed; He took her from me in his wrath,
“Where is my child ?”—“ Thy child is dead.” "Twas false. We wander'd far and wide,
Through town and country, field and fen,
And I became a wife again.
My fancied charms for wicked price ;
The slave, but not the friend of vice :Behold me, Heaven! my pains behold,
And let them for my sins suffice ! The wretch who lent me thus for gain,
Despised me when my youth was fled , Then came disease, and brought me pain :
Come, death, and bear me to the dead' For though I grieve, my grief is vain,
And fruitless all the tears I shed.
His father's child, whom Aaron gave
To wander with a distant clan, The miseries of the world to brave,
And be the slave of vice and man.
She knew my name—we met in pain,
Our parting pangs can I express ? She sail'd a convict o'er the main,
And left an heir to her distress.
This is that heir to shame, and pain,
For whom I only could descry A world of trouble and disdain :
Yet, could I bear to see her die, Or stretch her feeble hands in vain,
And, weeping, beg of me supply?
No! though the fate thy mother knew
Was shameful! shameful though thy race Have wander'd all, a lawless crew,
Outcasts, despised in every place;
Yet as the dark and muddy tide,
When far from its polluted source, Becomes more pure, and, purified,
Flows in a clear and happy course ;
In thee, dear infant! so may end
Our shame, in thee our sorrows cease! And thy pure course will then extend,
In floods of joy, o'er vales of peace.
O! by the God who loves to spare,
Deny me not the boon I crave; Let this loved child your mercy share,
And let me find a peaceful grave; Make her yet spotless soul your care,
And let my sins their portion have ; Her for a better fate prepare,
And punish whom 'twere sin to save!
* The state of mind here described will account for a vistos of this nature, without having recourse to any su. pernatural appearance.
Command thy heart, and bend thy knee : There is to all a pardon brought,
A ransom rich, assured, and free ; 'Tis full when found, 'tis found if sought,
0! seek it, till 'tis seal'd to thee.
“ From some sad land the stranger comes,
Where joys like ours are never found; Let's soothe him in our happy homes,
Where freedom sits with plenty crown'd
VAGRANT But how my pardon shall I know?
“ 'Tis good the fainting soul to cheer,
To see the famish'd stranger sed; To milk for him the mother deer, To smooth for him the furry bed. The powers above our Lapland bless
With good no other people know; T' enlarge the joys that we possess
By feeling those that we bestow !"
By feeling dread that 'tis not sent, By tears for sin that freely flow,
By grief, that all thy tears are spent, By thoughts on that great debt we owe,
With all the mercy God has lent, By suffering what thou canst not show,
Yet showing how thine heart is rent, Till thou canst feel thy bosom glow,
And say, “ My Saviour, 1 repent!"
Thus in extremes of cold and heat,
Where wandering man may trace his kind; Wherever grief and want retreat,
In woman they compassion find; She makes the female breast her seat,
And dictates mercy to the mind. Man may the sterner virtues know,
Determined justice, truth severe : But female hearts with pity glow,
And woman holds affliction dear; For guiltless woes her sorrows flow,
And suffering vice compels her tear; 'Tis here to soothe the ills below,
And bid life's fairer views appear To woman's gentle kind we owe
What comforts and delights us here ; They its gay hopes on youth bestow,
And care they soothe and age they cheer.
"To a woman I never addressed myself in the language
of decency and friendship, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. If I was hungry or thirsty, wet or sick, they did not hesitate, like men, to perform a generous action : in so free and kind a manner did they contribute to my relief, that if I was dry, I drank the sweetest draught; and if hungry, I ate the coarsest morsel with a double relish."- Mr. Ledyard, as quoted by M. Parke in his Travels into Africa.
THE DUMB ORATORS; OR, THE BENEFIT OF SOCIETY.
PLACE the white man on Afric's coast,
Whose swarthy sons in blood delight, Who of their scorn to Europe boast,
And paint their very demons white: There, while the sterner sex disdains
To soothe the woes they cannot feel, Woman will strive to heal his pains,
And weep for those she cannot heal ; Hers is warm pity's sacred glow;
From all her stores, she bears a part, And bids the spring of hope re-flow,
That languish'd in the fainting heart.
So sunk and sad his looks,"—she cries ;
We see him Jost, alone, afraid ;
Pronounce him man, and ask our aid. • Perhaps in some far-distant shore,
There are who in these forms delight; Whose milky features please them more Than ours of jet, thus burnish'd bright; Of such may be his weeping wife,
Such children for their sire may call, And if we spare his ebbing life,
Our kindness may preserve them all.” Thus her compassion woman shows,
Beneath the line her acts are these ; Nor the wide waste of Lapland-snows
Can her warm flow of pity freeze :
With fair round belly with good capon lined,
As you like it, act ii. sc. 7. Deep shame hath struck me duinb.
King John, act iv. se. 2. He gives the bartinado with his tongue, Our ears are cudgell'd.
King John, act iv. sc. 2. Let's kill all the lawyers ; Now show yourselves men: 'is for liberty: We will not leave one lord or gentleman.
Henry VI. part 2 act ii. sc. 7. And thus the whirligig or time brings in his revenges.
Twelfik Night, act v. scene last.
That all men would be cowards if they dare,
In contest mighty, and of conquest proud