40

Though she, whose beauty's all-enchanting pow'r
Could every sterner care of life beguile,
Whose charms could sooth reflection's sickening hour,
Or bid the cheerless brow of sorrow smile;

Far from these dreary scenes for ever torn,

No more shall animate each rapturous strain, Now sweetly smiling, now with looks of scorn, Hiding her heart, that sunk at giving pain :

Yet when emerging from the giddy throng,
When every eye but mine is seal'd in rest,
Pensive I walk these time-mark'd walls among,
And kiss the hallow'd ground her footsteps press'd;

Here while the scenes of former bliss arise,

(Sad source from whence these tears of anguish flow)

Far from the sneering fool, or censuring wise,

I nurse in solitude the seeds of woe

-Deaf to the voice of pleasure, or of fame, Yet not from pity's milder influence free, E'en then, not unregardful of thy name,

This aching breast shall heave one sigh for thee.

ELEGY IX.

THE

DEBTOR.

By the Same.

CHILDREN of Affluence, hear a poor man's pray'r!
O haste and free me from this dungeon's gloom;
Let not the hand of comfortless despair

Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb!

Unus'd Compassion's tribute to demand,

With clamorous din wake Charity's dull ear, Wring the slow aid from Pity's loitering hand, Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready tear.

Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours,
To view of bliss, to scenes of affluence born;
The hand of pleasure strew'd my path with flow'rs,

And every blessing hail'd my youthful morn.

10

σ

But ah, how quick the change !—the morning gleam,
That cheer'd my fancy with her magic ray,
Fled like the gairish pageant of a dream,
And sorrow clos'd the evening of my day.

Such is the lot of human bliss below!

Fond hope awhile the trembling flow'ret rears; 'Till unforeseen descends the blight of woe, And withers in an hour the pride of years. 20

In evil hour, to specious wiles a prey,

I trusted :-(who from faults is always free ?)
And the short progress of one fatal day

Was all the space 'twixt wealth and poverty.

Where could I seek for comfort, or for aid?
To whom the ruins of my state commend?
Left to myself, abandon'd, and betray'd,

Too late I found the wretched have no friend!

E'en he amid the rest, the favor'd youth,

Whose vows had met the tenderest warm return,

Forgot his oaths of constancy and truth,
And left my child in solitude to mourn.

30

Pity in vain stretch'd forth her feeble hand
To guard the sacred wreaths that Hymen wove,
While pale-eyed Avarice, from his sordid stand,
Scowl'd o'er the ruins of neglected love.

Though deeply hurt, yet sway'd by decent pride,
She hush'd her sorrows with becoming art,

And faintly strove with sickly smiles to hide
The canker-worm that prey'd upon her heart. 40

Nor blam'd his cruelty-nor wish'd to hate

Whom once she lov'd-but pitied, and forgave : Then unrepining yielded to her fate,

And sunk in silent anguish to the grave.

Children of affluence, hear a poor man's prayer!
O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom;
Let not the hand of comfortless despair

Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb!

ELEGY X.

THE

POOR MAN'S PRAYER.

BY THE REV. DR. ROBERTS,

OF EION.

ADDRESSED TO THE LATE EARL OF CHATHAM.

AMIDST the more important toils of state,
The counsels labouring in thy patriot soul,
Tho' Europe from thy voice expect her fate,
And thy keen glance extend from pole to pole;

O Chatham, nurs'd in ancient Virtue's lore,

To these sad strains incline a favouring ear; Think on the God, whom thou, and I adore, Nor turn unpitying from the poor man's prayer.

Ah me! how blest was once a peasant's life!
No lawless passion swell'd my even breast: 1
Far from the stormy waves of civil strife,

Sound were my slumbers, and my heart at rest.