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;

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.

Oh! by the G.o.d 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!

MAGISTRATE.

Recall the word, renounce the thought, Command thy heart and bend thy knee; There is to all a pardon brought, A ransom rich, a.s.sured and free; 'Tis full when found, 'tis found if sought, Oh! seek it, till 'tis seal'd to thee.

VAGRANT.

But how my pardon shall I know?

MAGISTRATE.

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 G.o.d 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, I REPENT!"

1807

"WOMAN!"

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 coa.r.s.est morsel with a double relish.

Mr Ledyard, as quoted by Mungo Park in his travels into Africa.

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 s.e.x 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.

"What though so pale his haggard face, So sunk and sad his looks,"--she cries; "And far unlike our n.o.bler race, With crisped locks and rolling eyes; Yet misery marks him of our kind; We see him lost, alone, afraid; And pangs of body, griefs in mind, p.r.o.nounce him man, and ask our aid.

"Perhaps in some far-distant sh.o.r.e There are who in these forms delight; Whose milky features please them more, Than ours of jet thus burnished 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 compa.s.sion Woman shows: Beneath the line her acts are these; Nor the wide waste of Lapland-snows Can her warm flow of pity freeze: - "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.

'Tis good the fainting soul to cheer, To see the famish'd stranger fed; 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!"

Thus in extremes of cold and heat, Where wandering man may trace his kind; Wherever grief and want retreat, In Woman they compa.s.sion 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 hers 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.

1807

"THE BIRTH OF FLATTERY".

Omnia habeo, nec quicquam habeo; Quidquid, dic.u.n.t, laudo; id rursum si negant, laudo id quoque; Negat quis, nego; ait, aio; Postremo imperavi egomet mihi Omnia a.s.sentari.

TERENCE, in Eunuch.

'Tis an old maxim in the schools, That flattery is the food of fools; Yet now and then your men of wit Will condescend to taste a bit.

SWIFT.

The Subiect--Poverty and Cunning described--When united, a jarring Couple--Mutual reproof--the Wife consoled by a Dream--Birth of a Daughter--Description and Prediction of Envy--How to be rendered ineffectual, explained in a Vision--Simulation foretells the future Success and Triumphs of Flattery--Her power over various Characters and Different Minds; over certain Cla.s.ses of Men; over Envy himself- -Her successful Art of softening the Evils of Life; of changing Characters; of meliorating Prospects and affixing Value to Possessions, Pictures, &c. Conclusion.

Muse of my Spenser, who so well could sing The pa.s.sions all, their bearings and their ties; Who could in view those shadowy beings bring, And with bold hand remove each dark disguise, Wherein love, hatred, scorn, or anger lies: Guide him to Fairy-land, who now intends That way his flight; a.s.sist him as he flies, To mark those pa.s.sions, Virtue's foes and friends, By whom when led she droops, when leading she ascends.

Yes! they appear, I see the fairy train!

And who that modest nymph of meek address?

Not vanity, though loved by all the vain; Not Hope, though promising to all success; Not Mirth, nor Joy, though foe to all distress; Thee, sprightly syren, from this train I choose, Thy birth relate, thy soothing arts confess; 'Tis not in thy mild nature to refuse, When poets ask thine aid, so oft their meed and muse.

In Fairy-land, on wide and cheerless plain, Dwelt, in the house of Care a st.u.r.dy swain; A hireling he, who, when he till'd the soil, Look'd to the pittance that repaid his toil, And to a master left the mingled joy And anxious care that follow'd his employ.

Sullen and patient he at once appear'd, As one who murmur'd, yet as one who fear'd; Th'attire was coa.r.s.e that clothed his sinewy frame, Rude his address, and Poverty his name.

In that same plain a nymph, of curious taste, A cottage (plann'd, with all her skill) had placed; Strange the materials, and for what design'd The various parts, no simple man might find; What seem'd the door, each entering guest withstood, What seem'd a window was but painted wood; But by a secret spring the wall would move, And daylight drop through gla.s.sy door above: 'Twas all her pride, new traps for praise to lay, And all her wisdom was to hide her way; In small attempts incessant were her pains, And Cunning was her name among the swains.

Now, whether fate decreed this pair should wed, And blindly drove them to the marriage bed; Or whether love in some soft hour inclined The damsel's heart, and won her to be kind, Is yet unsung: they were an ill-match'd pair, But both disposed to wed--and wed they were.

Yet, though united in their fortune, still Their ways were diverse; varying was their will; Nor long the maid had bless'd the simple man, Before dissensions rose, and she began: - "Wretch that I am! since to thy fortune bound, What plan, what project, with success is crown'd?

I, who a thousand secret arts possess, Who every rank approach with right address; Who've loosed a guinea from a miser's chest, And worm'd his secret from a traitor's breast; Thence gifts and gains collecting, great and small, Have brought to thee, and thou consum'st them all; For want like thine--a bog without a base - Ingulfs all gains I gather for the place; Feeding, unfill'd; destroying, undestroy'd; It craves for ever, and is ever void: - Wretch that I am! what misery have I found, Since my sure craft was to thy calling bound!"

"Oh! vaunt of worthless art," the swain replied, Scowling contempt, "how pitiful this pride!

What are these specious gifts, these paltry gains, But base rewards for ignominious pains?

With all thy tricking, still for bread we strive, Thine is, proud wretch! the care that cannot thrive; By all thy boasted skill and baffled hooks, Thou gain'st no more than students by their books.

No more than I for my poor deeds am paid, Whom none can blame, will help, or dare upbraid.

"Call this our need, a bog that all devours, - Then what thy petty arts, but summer-flowers, Gaudy and mean, and serving to betray The place they make unprofitably gay?

Who know it not, some useless beauties see, - But ah! to prove it was reserved for me."

Unhappy state! that, in decay of love, Permits harsh truth his errors to disprove; While he remains, to wrangle and to jar, Is friendly tournament, not fatal war; Love in his play will borrow arms of hate, Anger and rage, upbraiding and debate; And by his power the desperate weapons thrown, Become as safe and pleasant as his own; But left by him, their natures they a.s.sume, And fatal, in their poisoning force, become.

Time fled, and now the swain compell'd to see New cause for fear--"Is this thy thrift?" quoth he, To whom the wife with cheerful voice replied: - "Thou moody man, lay all thy fears aside; I've seen a vision--they, from whom I came, A daughter promise, promise wealth and fame; Born with my features, with my arts, yet she Shall patient, pliant, persevering be, And in thy better ways resemble thee.