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Should I reveal the sources of my grief, If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast,
Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, And tears of pity would not be repress'd.
Heav'n sends misfortunes, why should we repine ? 'Tis Heav'n has brought me to the state you see ;
And your condition may be soon like mine,
A little farm was my paternal lot,
But ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot,
My daughter, once the comfort of my age, Lur'd by a villain from her native home,
Is cast abandon’d on the world's wide stage, And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam.
My tender wife, sweet soother of my care ! Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree,
Fell, ling’ring fell, a victim to despair, And left the world to wretchedness and me.
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, Oh! give relief! and Heav'n will bless your store.
IV.-THE GRAVE OF ANNA.
I wish I was where Anna lies,
For I am sick of ling’ring here;
Go and partake her humble bier.
I lost my all; and life has proved
A waste unlovely and unloved.
But who, when I am turned to clay,
Shall duly to her grave repair,
And weeds that have no business there?"
The flowers she cherished, snowdrops cold,
To scatter o'er her hallowed mould ?
Upon her name for ever dear,
And pour the bitter, bitter tear?
Should visit still, should still deplore-
And I, alas ! can weep no more.
The last I offer at thy shrine,
And all thy memory fade with mine.
Thy voice that might with music vie,
Thy matchless eloquence of eye ;
Thy courage by no ills dismayed,
Thy gay good-humour, can they fade ?
V.HOPE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you ;
Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;
Kind nature the embryo blossom will save; But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn !
Oh, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave! 'Twas thus by the glare of false science betray'd,
That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind; My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,
Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. Oh, pity, great Father of light, then I cried,
Thy creature who fain would not wander from thee! Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride :
From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free. And darkness and doubt are now flying away;
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn :
The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.
And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom !
And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
YI. ON THE MISERIES OF HUMAN LIFE.
Ah! little think the gay licentious proud,
bleed, By shameful variance betwixt man and man. How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms, Shut from the common air, and common use
Of their own limbs. How many drink the cup
stand Around the deathbed of their dearest friends, And point the parting anguish. Thought, fond man, Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, That one incessant struggle render life, One scene of toil, of suff'ring, and of fate, Vice in his high career would stand appall’d, And heedless rambling Impulse learn to think; The conscious heart of Charity would warm, And her wide wish Benevolence dilate; The social tear would rise, the social sigh ; And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, Refining still, the social passions work.
E DEATH OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY
What beck’ning ghost along the moonlight shade
But thou, false guardian of a charge too good,
Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before,
gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!