Obrazy na stronie
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We and our fathers, from our childhood bred
To watch the cruel victor's eye, to dread
The arbitrary lash, to bend, to grieve,
(Out-cast of mortal race !) can we conceive
Image of aught delightful, soft, or gay?
Alas! when we have toil'd the longsome day,
The fullest bliss our hearts aspire to know
Is but some interval from active woe,
In broken rest and startling sleep to mourn,
Till morn, the tyrant, and the scourge, return.
Bred up in grief, can pleasure be our theme?
Our endless anguish does not Nature claim !
Reason and sorrow are to us the same.
Alas! with wild amazement we require,
If idle Folly was not Pleasure's fire ?
Madness, we fancy, gave an ill-tim'd birth
To grinning Laughter, and to frantic Mirthe'

“ This is the series of perpetual woe,
Which thou, alas! and thine, are born to know.
Illustrious wretch! repine not, nor reply:
View not what Heaven ordains with Reason's eye,
Too bright the object is; the distance is too high.
The man, who would resolve the work of Fate,
May limit number, and make crooked straight :
Stop thy inquiry then, and curb thy sense,
Nor let dust argue with Omnipotence.
'Tis God who must dispose, and man sustain,
Born to endure, forbidden to complain.
Thy sum of life must his decrees fulfil;
What derogates from his command, is ill;
And that alone is good which centres in his will

“ Yet, that thy labouring senses may not droop, Lost to delight, and destitute of hope, Remark what I, God's messenger, aver From him, who neither can deceive nor err. The land, at length redeem’d, shall cease to mourn, Shall from her sad captivity return. Sion shall raise her long-dejected head, And in her courts the law again be read. Again the glorious temple shall arise, And with new lustre pierce the neighbouring skies. The promis'd seat of empire shall again Cover the mountain, and command the plain ; And, from thy race distinguish’d, one shall spring, Greater in act than victor, more than king In dignity and power, sent down from heaven, To succour Earth. To him, To him, 'tis given, Passion, and care, and anguish, to destroy. Through him, soft peace, and plenitude of joy, Perpetual o'er the world redeem'd shall flow; No more may man inquire, nor angel know.

Now, Solomon! remembering who thou art, Act through thy remnant life the decent part. Go forth : be strong : with patience and with care Perform, and suffer : to thyself severe, Gracious to others, thy desires suppressid, Diffus'd thy virtues; first of men ! be best. Thy sum of duty let two words contain; (O may they graven in thy heart remain !) Be humble, and be just.' The angel said :With upward speed his agile wings he spread ; Whilst on the holy ground I prostrate lay, By various doubts impell’d, or to obey,

Or to object; at length (my mournful look
Heaven-ward erect) determin'd, thus I spoke :

Supreme, all-wise, eternal Potentate !
Sole Author, sole Disposer of our fate!
Enthron’d in light and immortality,
Whom no man fully sees, and none can see !
Original of beings ! Power divine !
Since that I live, and that I think, is thine !
Benign Creator ! let thy plastic hand
Dispose its own effect; let thy command
Restore, Great Father! thy instructed son;
And in my act may thy great will be done!”

THE THIEF AND THE CORDELIER,

A BALLAD:

To the Tune of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury.

Who has e'er been at Paris, must needs know the

Grève, The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave; Where Honour and Justice most oddly contribute To ease heroes' pains by a halter and gibbet.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

There Death breaks the shackles which Force had put on,

[begun; And the hangman completes what the judge but There the squire of the pad, and the knight of the post,

(no more crost. Find their pains no more balk'd, and their hopes

Derry down, &c.

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Great claims are there made, and great secrets are known;

(own. And the king, and the law, and the thief, has his But my hearers cry out, “What a deuce dost thou

ail ? Cut off thy reflections, and give us thy tale."

Derry down, &c.

1

'Twas there then, in civil respect to harsh laws, And for want of false witness to back a bad cause, A Norman, though late, was obliged to appear ; And who to assist, but a grave Cordelier !

Derry down, &c.

The squire, whose good grace was to open the
scene,

(begin:
Seem'd not in great haste that the show should
Now fitted the halter, now travers’d the cart,
And often took leave, but was loth to depart.

Derry down, &c.

“ What frightens you thus, my good son ?” says

the priest : “ You murder'd, are sorry, and have been confest.” * O father ! my sorrow will scarce save my bacon; For 'twas not that I murder'd, but that I was taken."

Derry down, &c.

Pough! pr’ythee ne'er trouble thy head with

such fancies : Rely on the aid you shall have from Saint Francis : If the money you promis'd be brought to the chest, You have only to die: let the church do the rest.

Derry down, &c.

“ And what will folks say, if they see you afrail? It reflects upon me, as I knew not my trade : Courage, friend; for to-day is your period of sorrow ; And things will go better, believe me, to-morrow.'

Derry down, &c.

“ To-morrow!” our hero replied, in a fright: “ He that's hang'd before noon, ought to think of to-night.”

(truss'd up: “ Tell your beads," quoth the priest, “ and be fairl: For you surely to-night shall in Paradise sup."

Derry down, &c.

“ Alas !” quoth the squire, “ howe'er sumptu

ous the treat, Parbleu! I shall have little stomach to eat; I should therefore esteem it great favour and grace, Would you be so kind as to go in my place.”

Derry down, &c.

“ That I would,” quoth the father, “ and thank

you to boot; But our actions, you know, with our duty must suit. The feast I propos’d to you, I cannot taste ; For this night, by our order, is mark’d for a fast."

Derry down, &c.

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