Each neighbour's joy he shared, and adverse growl, For heaven-born Pity dwelt within his soul:
Well knew the poor his house; for from his door
None e'er returned, but blest his bounteous store;
Their sad complaints he heard-sighed when they
grieved;
And scarce he heard them till his hand relieved;
Beloved by all he lived, sedate, though gay;
Prayer closed his night and ushered in his day.
But nought exempts from death: pale he was laid,
His heaving breast by weeping friends surveyed,
Beside his couch I sat-he, sighing, took
My hand in his, then spoke with dying look;
His trembling hand methinks I feel and spy,
The drops that started in his swimming eye:
"Farewell, my friend! for now the time is come,
That solemn points me to my silent tomb,
Oh! were my life to spend, each breath I'd prize,
For sins on sins now start before my eyes.
Yet, he who is my hope-his cheering voice,
Soft calls me hence, to share eternal joys-
Oh! seek his generous aid "-Here failed his breath,
He sighed and slumbered in the arms of death.
Such was his end, and such the bliss of those
Who taste the stream that from Immanuel flows.
This cheers the gloomy path, and opes the gate
Where endless joys their glorious entrance wait,
Through boundless heavens, amid his beams to rove,
There swell the song of his redeeming love.
What though misfortunes in this life abound;
Though ills on ills, and wants on wants surround;
Though all we hold most dear on earth are torn,
Harsh from our grasp and to a distance borne;
Though friends forget us, though our enemies growl,
And earth and hell affright the trembling soul:
Lift up your heads ye poor! the time draws nigh
When all these miseries shall at distance fly;
When songs of bliss shall be your blest employ,
Your highest glory, your eternal joy;
Triumphant treading an immortal shore,
Where sin and sorrow shall assault no more.
WITH A SATIRICAL POEM.
WHEN curst Oppression rears his brazen crest,
Withholds one half, and strains to seize the rest;
When those in power, disdaining shame or dread,
Half starve those wretches they pretend to feed;
Then should the Muse, with honest zeal inspired,
With hate of guilt and vile injustice fired,
Disclose their crimes, and to the world display
The gloomy catalogue in deep array;
Till Vice confounded hides her haggard head,
And lovely Virtue rises in her stead.
Receive the enclosed, nor blame the daring strains,
Since truth confirms each period it contains;
And poor Experience, from the listening throng,
Sad shakes her head, and owns the honest song.
Hard is their fate who must on knaves depend;
From whose base grip no laws can e'er defend:
Plead we for justice, then their friendship's o'er,
And, as we're honest, we're employed no more.
Ah! were we blest now with a noble few,
As just, kind, generous, and humane as you,
Our trade might then maintain its former blaze,
And Envy's self be dumb, or whisper praise.
Sweet is the joy, the bliss that toils afford,
When love unites the servant and his lord;
One common interest then the task appears,
And smiles and looks the longest labour cheers.
Cheats may deceive and growling tyrants swear,
Those claim our scorn and these provoke our fear;
But they who rise superior to such arts,
Possess like you our friendship and our hearts.
DARK hangs the drowsy murm'ring moonless night,
Clouds wrap each twinklet from the useless sight;
Housed is each swain, worn with the day's long toil,
Wielding the flail or turning o'er the soil;
Lone now the fields, the banks, the meadows all,
Save where frogs croak or noisome lizards crawl.
Seen from the hill, Edina's turrets glow
With beaming lamps in many a glittering row,
That glad the sight, while slow approaching near,
Mixt sounds and voices crowd upon the ear;
Hoarse pie-men bawl, and shake the ceaseless bell,
Boys sport, dogs bark, and oyster wenches yell.
See yon black form placed at the well-worn porch,
One arm sustains a tarry flaming torch;
With echoing voice and grim distorted looks,
He hoarsely roars, "An auction here of books."
The trotting chairman and the thund'ring coach,
The blazing windows and sly wh-'s approach,
The justling passengers that swarm each lane,
Form to a stranger a surprising scene.
"Twas at this time with keen tooth'd hunger pin'd,
Plain Ralph the pedlar, wandered in a wynd.
This Ralph, 'tis storied, bore a curious pack,
With trinkets filled, and had a ready knack
At coining rhyme; o'er all the eastern plain
Well was he known to every village swain.
Where'er he lodged, on mountain, moor, or dale,
The cottage filled to hear his wondrous tale.
Oft at the barn they'd list, and hear poor Ralph,
In uncouth phrases talking to himself;
Or mark him wand'ring lone, 'twixt late and soon,
With mutt'ring voice, wild gazing to the moon.
Drawn by the sight of certain skinny food,
He sallied down and often gazing stood;
And such blest visions here he did descry,
That Want sat gnawing in his restless eye.
Here tripe lay smoking on the loaded board,
Piled high and thick, a most delicious hoard;
The fragrant stream in wavy columns rose,
And fed incessant his enraptured nose.
No longer fit to bear the glorious sight,
He buys, then scampers with exulting flight,
Resolved that night to soar his rank above,
Gape o'er his spoil, and feast with nectared Jove.
Here let us leave him, while with soaring flight, We gain Olympus and the plains of light: There, for his sons, see great Apollo's care, How low their station or how poor soe'er, Alike to him's the pedlar and the peer.
High on a throne of burnished gold, in state
And awful pomp the mighty Thund'rer sat.
His flowing robe in dazzling glory shone,
Inferior gods hung hov'ring round his throne;
With rapt'rous songs the heavens resounding rung,
Sweet Echo warbling while the seraphs sung.
When, lo! approaching with green laurelled brows,
Before the throne divine Apollo bows,
An anxious look his glorious face oppressed,
While bending low, he thus the god addressed:
Almighty potentate! all conquering Jove!
Who form'd these heav'ns that boundless spread above
Yon distant earth, and all these worlds that roll
In circling dance, whose nod sustains the whole,
Whose powerful arm swift hurls the tempest forth, Whose frown strikes terror through the astonished
Bids yon vast sea in swelling mountains rise,
And uproar horrid, foaming to the skies,
Then smiles, and smooth the glassy surface lies.
"Oft hast thou lent me a propitious ear,
And made my sons thy most peculiar care.
By thee inspired, they soar beyond the sun,
And sing the wonders that thy arm hath done.
Now stoop in pity to the dang'rous state
Of one poor bard, born to a hapless fate.
Thou knows his danger: see how swift he flies,
Nor know'st the snare that for his ruin lies.
Soon will he reach his home; and, sad to tell,
Glut the vile tripe and revel o'er the smell:
But still there's time, still we may him retard,
Here stand I ready to obey thy word."
Jove gave consent; when down the empyrean height,
The cheerful god directs his rapid flight;
Swift passed the stars, heaven's regions he forsook,
Light flew behind, and darkness he o'ertook.
The num'rous lamps Edina's streets that line,
He first espies in sparkling squadrons shine.
A moment, dubious, o'er the scene he stops,
Then swift, unseen, in B's closs he drops,
Assumes a porter's shape, conceals his wings,
And through the closs in hurrying fury springs;
Down hurls poor Ralph, crash went the shivered bowl,
And greasy streams along the pavement roll.
As when some tiger, to his haunt from day,
Returns, blood-foaming, with the slaughtered prey,
Grim pleased that there, with undisturbed roar,
He'll glut and revel o'er the reeking gore,
Glares in wild fury o'er the gloomy waste,
Now growls terrific o'er its mangled breast;
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