And the rich blood that is in thee swells in thy indig nant pain;
Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each started vein.
Will they ill use thee? If I thought-but no it cannot be
Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed, so gentle, yet so free.
And yet, if haply when thou'rt gone, my lonely heart should yearn,
Can the hand which cast thee from it, now command thee to return.
Return, alas! my Arab steed, what shall thy master do, When thou who wert his all of joy hath vanished from his view;
When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gathering tears,
Thy bright form for a moment like the false Mirage appears,
Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary foot
Where with fleet step and joyous bound, thou oft has borne me on.
And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think,
It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink.
When last I saw thee drink? Away! the fevered dream is o'er,
I could not live a day, and know that we should meet
They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger's power is strong,
They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too
Who said that I'd giv'n thee up, who said that thou wert sold?
"Tis false, 'tis false, my Arab steed, I fling thein back their gold;
Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back, and scour the di
Away, who overtakes us now, shall claim thee for hi pains.
OH! mark his wan and hollow cheek,
And mark his eye-balls glare:
And mark his teeth in anguish clench'd,
The anguish of despair:
Know, since three days, his penance borne,
Yon felon left a jail;
And since three days no food has pass'd
Those lips so parch'd and pale.
"Where shall I turn ?" the wretch exclaims;
"Where hide my shameful head?
How fly my scorn? Oh! how contrive
To earn my honest bread ?
This branded hand would gladly toil;
But when for work I pray,
Who sees this mark-'A FELON!' cries,
And loathing turns away.
"This heart has greatly err'd, but now
Would fain revert to good;
This hand has greatly sinn'd, but yet
Has ne'er been stain'd with blood.
For work, or alms, in vain I sue;
The scorners both deny:
I starve! I starve!-then what remains?
This choice-to sin or die!
"Here virtue spurns me with disdain;
Here pleasure spreads her snare ;
Strong habit drags me back to vice,
And urged by fierce despair,
I strive while hunger gaws my heart,
To fly from shame in vain.
World, 'tis my cruel will! I yield,
And plunge in guilt again.
"There's mercy in each ray of light
That mortal eyes e'er saw ;
There's mercy in each breath of air
That mortal lips e'er draw:
There's mercy both for bird and beast
In God's indulgent plan;
There's mercy in each creeping thing-
But man has none for man!
"Ye proudly honest! when ye heard
My wounded conscience groan,
Had generous hand or feeling heart
One glimpse of mercy shown,
That act had made, from burning eyes,
Sweet tears of virtue roll;
Had fix'd my heart, assur'd my faith,
And heav'n had gain'd a soul."
THE BACHELOR'S REASONS FOR TAKING A WIFE.
GRAVE authors say, and witty poets sing,
That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:
But depth of judgment most in him appears,
Who wisely weds in his maturer years,
Then let him choose a damsel young and fair,
To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;
To soothe his cares, and free from noise and strife,
Conduct him gently to the verge of life;
Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore,
Full well they merit all they feel, and more;
Unaw'd by precepts, human and divine,
Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join:
Nor know to make the present blessing last,
To hope the future, or esteem the past;
But vainly boast the joys they never try'd,
And find divulged the secrets they would hide.
The marry'd man may bear his yoke with ease,
Secure at once himself and heaven to please;
And pass his inoffensive hours away,
In bliss all night, and innocence all day :
Tho' fortune change, his constant spouse remains,
Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.
But what so pure which envious tongues will spare?
Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair.
With matchless impudence they style a wife
The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;
A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,
A night invasion, and a mid-day devil.
Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard,
But curse the bones of every lying bard.
All other goods by Fortune's hand are given-
A wife is the peculiar gift of heaven:
Vain Fortune's favours, never at a stay,
Like empty shadows, glide and pass away;
One solid comfort-our eternal wife,
Abundantly supplies us all our life.
This blessing lasts (if those who try say true)
As long as e'er a heart can wish-and longer too.
Our grandsire Adam, e'er of Eve possess'd,
Alone, and even in Paradise unbless'd,
With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd
And wander'd in the solitary shade:
The maker saw, took pity, and bestowed
Woman, the last, the best reserve of God.
A wife! ah, gentle deities, can he That has a wife e'er feel adversity? Would men but follow what the sex advise, All things would prosper-all the world grow wise. "Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won His father's blessing from an elder son:
Abusive Nabal ow'd his forfeit life,
To the wise conduct of a prudent wife;
Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,
Preserv'd the Jews, and slew the Assyrian foe:
At Hester's suit, the persecuting sword
Was sheathed, and Israel lived to bless the Lord.
Be charm'd with virtuous joys, and sober life,
And try that Christian comfort, call'd a wife.
THE BUMPKIN AND THE STABLE-KEEPER
A TALE
YOUNG Ned, a sort of clownish beau, one day,
Quick to a livery-stable hied away,
To look among the nags;
A journey in the country he was going,
And wanted to be mounted well, and knowing;
And make among his bumpkin kin his brags.
The rogue in horses shew'd him many a hack,
And swore that better never could be mounted;
But still young Ned at hiring one was slack,
And more or less their make and shape he scouted.
"A gentlemanly steed I want, to cut a shine,
So that I may be dashing call'd, and fine,
And set relations, friends, acquaintance, staring---
From London to look vulgar, there's no bearing."
"True," quoth the jockey, with attentive bow,
And look'd his customer quite through and throngh,
"I see the case, indeed, exactly now,
And have a horse that to a T will do;"
He found the cash was plenty, and all ready,
And mounted to his utmost wishes Neddy.
Sarcastically muttering, as he rode off,
"At thee the natives cannot fail to scoff;
So far, most proper 'tis indeed,
That thou should'st have a handsome steed;
For where two animals a travelling hie,
One should be gentlemanly by the bye."
|