In many a plaintive note, of eggs or young;
And frequently they warn their children dear,
That they engage not in fuch cruel sports.
Within their cot no death-fraught tube is found,
No wiry prifon to confine the wings
By Nature made to fit the boundless air:
With freedom blefs'd themselves, they with all free!
What, though their little tenement contains
Scarce room, perhaps, for children and themselves,
Gladly they ope the hofpitable door,
To give the wearied traveller repose.
For, though not blefs'd with Fortune's richest gifts,
(And Fortune's gifts are bleffings to mankind,
When used for the purpose they were given)
Enough they have, and freely do bestow
The little they can spare to those who need;
And where they cannot give fufficient aid,
With tears they wail their fellow-mortal's woe,
And heal thofe griefs with fweet Religion's balm,
Beyond their power to cure by other means.
Their gentle offspring, too, with mournful looks,
And pitying accents, fympathize diftrefs;
And reach with eager hands their own fupport,
To feed the ftranger deftitute of food.
O learn from thefe, ye great ones of the earth,
The brightest virtue of the human mind;
Nor let the vagrant poor be driv'n away,
(Tho' deem'd offenders 'gainft our well-meant laws)
Unheard, unfed, unpitied, from your gates!
Little ye know what motives may conftrain
An honest man to wander from his home;
What fad oppreffions may have driv'n him thence,
Guiltless, perhaps, but forc'd, with aching heart,
To quit the tendereft ties, and feek support
From fellow-chriftians, through his native land!
But chiefly ftrive-O let the Mufe prevail!-
To find out merit ftruggling with distress;
Nor let the widow's tears in fecret shed,
Nor tender orphan's cries, nor age's moans,
In vain apply to Heav'n and you for aid:
So fhall your days on earth with peace be crown'd,
And Heav'n reward you, when ye quit this life,
With blifs eternal in the realms above!
E'en fhould Oppreffion, with his iron hand,
Afflict the gentle pair with fad distress,
Arm'd by Religion, they refift his force,
And fmile beneath the torture he inflicts:
Or does the loathed breath of fickness reach
(For who can boast exemption from disease!)
The lovely fair, and blight the crimson rofe
That lately flourish'd in her now pale cheek;
With equal palenefs the true partner fits,
And checks the struggling figh, and stops the tear
Which Nature, fcorning the diffembler's part,
Tho' e'en in Virtue's caufe, ftill quick returns;
Till, with united and increafing force,
No longer able to fuftain the affauit,
His labouring bofom fwells, his eyes o'erflow,
And quick retiring from the mournful scene,
Which yet 'tis death to leave, filent he goes,
And yields to all the luxury of grief.
Yet ftill, with genial warmth, the fun of Hope
Drinks up the dew shed in Affliction's night,
While with a momentary gleam it breaks
Through the thick clouds collected by Defpair.
Then back he haftes, affumes a chearful look,
And speaks, with feeming confidence, that peace
To the afflicted fair, which his own breaft
Heal'd as it is from the extreme of grief,
Still more than half difowns; till he believes,
Almoft, himself, fpite of the change he fees,
Far diftant yet the irresistless stroke,
Which must, he knows, and oft with tears has mourn'd,
(With mingled tears, e'en in their gayeft hours,
Shed by the blissful pair) one day divide
(Ah! be it diftant far!) their ever-faithful loves!
But when, at length, the awful period comes,
(And come it must to all of human birth,
Till the laft trump, tremendous, fhall proclaim.
The all-fubduing king himself fubdu'd,
And trembling mortals fearful fhall await-
Have mercy, Heav'n!-th' irrevocable doom,
Which elfe muft plunge millions of million fouls
In never-ending pain!) that quite cuts off
Each cherish'd ray of oft-deceiving Hope,
O then what pangs, unutterable pangs!
Torture the partner-heart, that vainly strives,
With unaffuaged grief to melt away,
And join it's dear, lamented counterpart,
In those blefs'd realms where forrow is no more!
O, Anna! whither has the vagrant Mufe
My devious footsteps led! Ah, fearful ftate!"
Methinks I hear you cry, if these the scenes,
And falfely call'd of joy!-Alas! what pangs
* Has Heav'n provided for the human heart,
If these, which in description rive the breast,
Are rightly nam'd-PLEASURES OF WEDDED LOVE?'
Still mix'd with grief,' the injur'd Mufe replies, Is all of human joy: fo Heav'n ordain'd,
• When disobedient man untimely broke
The fole command that limited each wish,
And fnatch'd the fruit but for his good witheld.
E'er fince, compaffionate to human woe,
As, from this fatal breach, all mortal flesh
Was doom'd to feel or more or less of pain,
When too much anguifh racks the tortur'd mind;
Or when the body's fuff'rings rage too high;
Or hoary age, with unperceiv'd decay,"
Has worn the threads of life, or quite dried up
The vital current's long decreasing stream;
Almighty Goodness in his bounty gave
A kind release, and men have nam'd it DEATH.
And happy they, who, in this vale of tears,
Escape all other pangs, but thofe alone
• Which nature asks to separate the foul
From it's grofs manfion, render'd now less fit
For fo divine a guest: nor, even then,
Reviewing ev'ry action of a life
Employ'd in meaning well, and free from fault
As man may be, fear for their future ftate;
But only heave the figh, or drop the tear,
Compaffion bids, for thofe they leave behind!"
Ah! dearest, faireft, lovelieft of thy fex!
(Turn not away; no vain, mean flatt'ry this;
For thou art fo to me:) wilt thou not own
The Mufe has rightly faid, No earthly joy
Is quite unmix'd with pain?-that wedded love,
(The fource of num'rous ties, uniting all
To fwell the ftream of blifs, from many a spring
Unknown to those who flight the rofy wreathe,
And weakly deem a flavish, galling chain,
The flow'ry band that joins two willing hearts)
Conveys a rational, fublime delight,
That nothing else can give, and without which
All human life were vain ?-and wilt thou too,
(Blush not, my dearest love, for thou haft faid,
Haft kindly said, thou wouldst one day be mine!)
O wilt thou, love, thy kindness still extend,
And fix, nor be it long, the tardy hour,
That crowns my ev'ry wish? More happy then,.
Than if the fubject world, united all,
Had join'd to make me blefs'd; and, in their zeal,
Hail'd me fole fov'reign of the fpacious earth!
O let it not be long!-for foon, too soon!—
Shall Time-too rapid then, as now too slow-
Bring on-tormenting thought!—the cruel hour,
That muft divide-(ah! diftant be it far!)
-Our ever-faithful loves!-
ON THE BIRTH OF A FIRST CHILD.
XHAUSTED by her painful throes,
Let nature take her due repofe;
Sweet, dearest Anna, be thy fleep,
While I my joyful vigils keep!
O be thy joy fincere as mine;
For fure my pangs have equall'd thine!
Sleep on! and, waking, thou fhalt fee
All that delights thy foul in me:
Friend! husband! and a name most dear,
The father of thy new-born care!
As thou on her thy eyes shall cast,
Thank Heaven for all the danger pafs'd.
Heaven for no trivial cause ordains,
That joy like this fucceeds thy pains;
But, by this facred pledge, demands
A parent's duty at thy hands:
While thou thy infant charge shall rear,
My love fhall lighten every care!
|