The wretch dejected had in secret sigh'd
Beneath his burden, and in secret died:
But tender pledges of connubial love
Partake his wants, and all his pity move:
Their mother's joy-their mother now no more,
To see-to feel-their sorrows and deplore-
Turn from this scene, my soul, awhile, and sigh, And lift to heaven the hand-the heart-the eye! Then to this scene, blest shade! I'll turn again, And solemnize thy death in plaintive strain. Father of mercies! whose indulgent ear
Is always open to an humble prayer!
Whose pity sees, whene'er thy creatures grieve;
Whose bounteous hands their indigence relieve!
O for His sake, whose lips, with grace replete,
Successful plead before thy mercy-seat;
Pour down thy blessings on the sons of need,
Who at thy throne for blessings intercede !
Their fears remove, their pressing wants supply,
And guide their feet thro' life with watchful eye,
To their sad hearts restore departed joy,
So shall thy praise their grateful tongues employ.
To poor Distress sad Solitude repairs,
And with her broods in silence o'er her fears;
While to the rich base parasites resort,
And at the shrine of Mammon make their court;
Who turn their footsteps to the moss-spread door,
Where sit and pine the solitary poor!
Shunn'd by the proud with no less timorous care,
Than flies the unwounded from the stricken deer.
Is there among the opulent and great,
Who deign to enter Poverty's retreat?
Is there who makes the Christian name his boast,
But to the virtues of a Christian's lost?-
Some few there are, how blest and honor'd they!
Who hear the Saviour's precepts, and obey;
Who feed the hungry with a heart benign;
Who give refreshment when the thirsty pine:
* See Matthew xxv. 35, &c.
Who grant the stranger shelter from the storm,
Who clothe the naked, and the frost-nipt warın;
The sick who visit with humane intent,
And seek the cottage where the poor lament;
To these kind, blest, and honor'd few, 1 raise
An humble column of unfeigned praise;
Above the rest, if one in goodness shines,
To whom my muse inscribes these artless lines,
Benevolus is he-the friend unsought,
Whose soul with every lovely virtue's fraught.
Now, my sad soul, life's former scenes revise;
Compare the summer with the winter skies!-
Ye halcyon days! O! why for ever fled?
Why beats the storm on this devoted head?
O! that I were as in bright seasons gone,
When God with favor on my dwelling shone!
When by his light I walk'd thro' darksome ways,
And peace and safety crown'd my youthful days!
When Plenty's hand my homely table spread,
And Rest her roses scatter'd on my bed!
When Hunger's plaint ne'er pierc'd a father's ear,
Nor children's wants drew forth a mother's tear!-
Now sights of anguish meet my weeping eyes,
And prospects dreary all around me rise.
The infant's moan a parent's heart pervades,
Who, in their looks, their wants with sorrow reads;
Reads, in such lines as eloquence excel,
The woes and wishes that their bosoms swell.
Will Heaven the shaggy lion's young supply,
And hear, and feed the ravens when they cry;
Yet leave the human offspring to complain,
To sigh-to weep-to supplicate in vain?
Sooner shall whirlwinds rock the sea to rest,
And mothers stab their sucklings at the breast;
Sooner shall tygers from the desert rove,
And wander harmless thro' the festive grove;
Sooner the leopard change his spotted side;
A feather sooner stem the rapid tide;
• See Job xxix, 2, 3, &c.
Sooner the Moor efface his sable hue,
And sooner earth be delug'd with a dew,
Than God his timely succors shall withhold
From babes oppress'd with hunger, thirst, and cold.
Where is the bounty of the sons of Wealth,
Whom Heaven hath blest with opulence and health?
Where is the eye that "weeps with those who weep?"
Where the soft voice that lulls Distress to sleep?
Where the kind hand?-the sympathizing heart
To feel another's woe, and joy impart ?-
Bounty is fled, and seeks her native sky,
And pitying tears forsake the human eye;
No strains to lull Distress-the soothing voice
Is drown'd in giddy Mirth's tumultuous noise;
Flinty those hearts that once with pity flow'd;
Clos'd now the hands that Christian alms bestow'd:
O Heaven! send Bounty back from where she's fled!
Let eyes relenting tears of pity shed!
Let the soft voice to sorrow comfort give!
The heart be melted, and the hand relieve!
Then will of wretches the most wretched own,
That Charity on earth hath fix'd her throne:
'Tis fix'd on earth-I feel her gentle sway,
And humbly at her shrine my homage pay.
Straight from thine altar, Charity, shall rise
The smoke of incense, and perfume the skies!
Incense of Gratitude, which fragrance yields,
Surpassing citron-groves or spicy fields;
Accept the offering which I bring to thee,
Thou fairest sister of the lovely three!
My needy hands no costly tribute hold;
No bright oblation of Peruvian gold;
Yet I present what thou wilt ne'er despise,
-A grateful heart in willing sacrifice-
A grateful heart is all I have to give;
O Charity benign! that all receive!
Now on that scene, reflect, my faithful muse, Nor to the dead a sigh-a tear refuse
To that sad scene Death's blacken'd pencil wrought,
My soul returns in melancholy thought.
Come, Contemplation, from thy much-lov'd shades, Which scarce a ray of Summer's noon pervades ! Quit for awhile thy consecrated cave,
And pay with me a visit to the grave!
Come, solemn Night, in deepest sable clad !
Come, join the train, with Silence ever sad!
Come, sit with me beneath yon baneful yew,
And see my sorrows pass in slow review!
On "Joys departed, never to return,"
My soul depress'd shall meditate-and mourn;
First mourn "departed joys," and then review
My scenes of woe from yonder baneful yew.
Once my fond heart with secret rapture glow'd;
Once, like a stream, my bosom bliss o'erflow'd:
Nor thought my rapture like a fleeting dream,
Or my bliss transient as the flowing stream:
Delusive world! who on thy smiles presume,
Rear, unexpected, for their hopes a tomb-
Once prosperous suns around me lustre shed,
Now set these suns, and all their rays are fled;
What friends and friendship meant, of old, I knew ;
How cold that friendship now! those friends how few!
As fickle flowers, beneath a vernal sky,
Bloom and are fragrant, but in winter die;
So, when in life, wealth's store our wishes meets,
Friendship shall flourish, and diffuse its sweets;
Let the scene shift, and Poverty ensue,
Friendship withdraws, and scarcely bids, Adieu !
Once sacred Friendship, kindled into love,
Made all my hours with soft endearments move;
Heaven gave a wife-to me-to Heaven endear'd,
Who all my comforts and my sorrows shar'd;
But Heaven resum'd her to the world of bliss,
And left me lonely to lament in this.
Now to yon yew I turn my weary feet,
Where Silence, Night, and Contemplation meet;
With these companions, suited to my taste,
The grave I visit where her ashes rest;
Rest in firm hope to rise to life divine,
When earth and seas shall all their dead resign.
shad There I repose, and in calm sadness there des! Pour on her dust a tributary tear:
Nor shall my soul, while there for her I weep,
Forget the children fallen in death asleep :
Tho' first my tears a mother's grave bedew,
Yet I retain some tender drops for you.
These branches, blasted by the tainting breath
Of languid sickness, and relentless death,
How droop'd my heart! my fainting spirit said,
"Youths spring like flowers, and soon like flowers
they fade;"
But when the stock which those fair branches bore,
Wither'd and died, my hopes were then no more:
Yet calm reflection bids my hopes revive,
For Truth asserts, "The tree cut down shall live,"†
And all its branches, now decay'd and dead,
Again shall shoot, and with new verdure spread.
Haste, glorious morn! when from the fertile tomb,
These all shall rise, and bear eternal bloom:
And when yon yew shall lose its green, and die,
Ye shall re-flourish, evergreens on high.
When at your graves I shed the friendly tear,
How empty all terrestrial things appear!
Then would my soul with transport soar above,
To realms of life, light, liberty, and love.
Ye gay, who flutter in the brilliant ball,
Nor hear when Reason, and when Conscience, call!
Return'd from thence, some cemetery tread,
And wisdom learn among the silent dead!
Close by the graves where your lov'd relics rest,
Let my cold limbs by some kind hand be plac'd!
If, when my eyes are by Death's signet seal'd,
Some hand of Friendship will that kindness yield;
Peace to that friend who with my wish complies,
And peace attend his manes, whene'er he dies!
Three of the Author's children lie buried near their mother.
|