With trembling joy they catch the stealing sound;
Their famish'd little ones come smiling round.
Sweet Infancy! whom all the world forsook,
Thou hast put on again thy cherub look:
Guilt, shrinking at the sight, in deep dismay
Flies cow'ring, and resigns his wonted prey.
But who is she in garb of misery clad, Yet of less vulgar mien?-a look so sad
The mourning maniack wears-so wild, yet meek: :P
A beam of joy now wanders o'er her cheek,
The pale eye visiting: it leaves it soon,
As fade the dewy glances of the moon
Upon some wand'ring cloud, while slow the ray Retires, and leaves more dark the heav'n's wide way.
Lost mother, early doom'd to guilt and shame, Whose friends of youth now sigh not o'er thy name, Heavy has sorrow fall'n upon thy head,
Yet think-one hope remains when thou art dead;
Thy houseless child, thy only little one,
Shall not look round, defenceless and alone,
For one to guide her youth-nor with dismay
Each stranger's cold, unfeeling look survey!
She shall not now be left a prey to shame,
Whilst slow disease preys on her faded frame;
Nor, when the bloom of innocence is fled,
Thus fainting bow her unprotected head!
Oh, she shall live, and piety and truth,
The loveliest ornaments, shall grace her youth!
And should her eye with softest lustre shine,
And should she wear such smiles as once were thine,
The smiles of peace and virtue they shall prove,
Blessing the calm abode of faithful love!
For you, who thus, by pure compassion taught, Have wept o'er human sorrows;-who have sought Want's dismal cell, and pale as from the dead To life and light the speechless Orphan led ;Trust that the deed, in Mercy's book enroll'd, Approving spirits of the just behold!
Meanwhile, new virtues here, as on the wing Of morn, from Sorrow's dreary shades shall spring:
*The Promoters of the Charity.
TO THE PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETY.
Young Modesty, with fair untainted bloom;
And Industry, that sings beside her loom;
And ruddy Labour, issuing from his hatch
Ere the slant sunbeam strikes the lowly thatch;
And sweet Contentment smiling on a rock,
Like Alpine shepherdess beside her flock;
And tender Love, that hastes with myrtle-braid
To bind the tresses of the favour'd maid;
And Piety, with unclasp'd holy book,
Lifting to heav'n her mildly-beaming look:
These village virtues on the plain shall throng,
And Albion's hills resound a cheerful song;
Whilst Charity, with dewy eye-lids bland,
Leading a lisping infant in her hand,
Shall bend at pure Religion's holy shrine,
And say, "These children, GoD of love, are thine!"
on the burning orb of day,
When Afric's injurd son expiring lay,
Published Feb. 1.1798. by C. Dilly Cadell & Davies, London :: and R. Cruttwell, Bathf.
|