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Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span;
Oh! give relief, and Heav'n will bless your store. “ These tatter'd clothes my poverty befpeak;
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years ; And ev'ry furrow in my grief-worn cheek
Has been a channel to a flood of tears. “ Yon house, erected on the rising ground,
With tempting aspect, drew me from my road; For plenty there a residence has found,
And grandeur a magnificent abode. “ Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor!
There as I crav'd a morsel of their bread, A pamper'd menial drove me from the door,
To seek a shelter in an humbler shed. • Oh! take me to your hospitable dome;
Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold! Short is my passage to the friendly tomb,
For I am poor, and miserably old. " Should I reveal the sources of my grief,
If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, Your hands would not withhold the kind relief,
And tears of pity would not be repress’d. “ Heav'n sends misfortunes; why should we repine?
'Tis Heav'n has brought me to the state you And your condition may
be foon like mine, The child of sorrow and of misery. “ A little farm was my paternal lot,
Then, like the lark, I sprightly hail'd the morn; But, ah! oppression drove me from my cot,
My cattle dy'd, and blighted was my corn.
Lir'd by a villain from her native home,
And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam. “ My'tender wife, sweet foother of
my care, Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, Fell, lingʻring, fell a vi&tim to despair!
And left the world to wretchedness and me.
" Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door; Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Oh! give relief, and Heav'n will bless your
ftore." Enter, my aged friend !" reply'd the host,
“ Enter my humble mansion-child of woe ! No pompous grandeur does my table boat
Such as I have I freely will bestow."
With steps enliven’d trod the winding stair
Cheer'd his old heart, and soften'd all his care.
Hail, genial warmer of the human heart!
Hail, Hospitality! thou flane divine !
Whether at festive board thy bounties shine, Or to the woe-worn breast thou dost impart. The weary traveller thy value knows;
Sorrow is sooth'd-affli&tion, too, made light:
Through thee misfortune's cloud appeareth bright,
Bestowing thus as Heav'n at first decreed
Thine all the pleasures of the godlike deed
EPITAPH for ALGERNON SIDNEY.
NOMS'T thou, brave youth! by kindred virtue led,
T'explore the pregnant annals of the dead, That bright example may inspire thy brealt? Arrest thy Itep: here Sidney's alhes rest,
Does the found vibrate through thy throbbing heart?
and dauntless in thy country's caufe,
THE GRAVE OF HOWARD.
PIRIT of Death! whose outstretch'd pennons dread
Wave o'er the world beneath their shadow fpread,
'Twas where the pestilence at thy command
yet the languid lense was loft in death; And, with that look protecting angels wear, Hung o'er the dismal couch of pale despair !
Friend of mankind! the righteous task is o'er; The heart that throbb'd with piry, beats no more.
Around the limits of this rolling sphere, Where'er the just and good thy tale ihall hear, A tear shall fall:-alone, amidst the gloom Of the fill dungeon, his long forrow's tomb, The captive, mourning, o'er his chain shall bend, To think the cold earth holds his only friend ! He who with labour draws his wasting breath On the forsaken silent bed of death, Rememb’ring thy last look, and anxious eye, Shall gaze around, unvisited, and die ! Friend of mankind, farewell !--these tears we shed, So nature dictates, o'er thy earthly bed; Yet we forget not it was bis high will, Who saw thee virtue's arduous task fulfil, Thy spirit from its toil at last should reit: So wills thy God, and what he wills is best!
Thou hast encounter'd dark disease's train, Thou hast convers'd with
HOWARD! it matters not, that far away
Nor vain the thought, that fairer hence may rise