Published Feb. 1.1798, by C. Dilly, Cadell Davies,
London; – and R. Cruttwell, Bath
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF LEEDS,
THE PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETY.
WHEN Want, with wasted mien and haggard eye,
Retires in silence to her cell to die;
When o'er her child she hangs with speechless dread,
Faint and despairing of to-morrow's bread;
Who shall approach to bid the conflict cease,
And to her parting spirit whisper peace?
Who thee, poor Infant, that with aspect bland
Dost stretch forth innocent thy helpless hand,
Shall pitying then protect, when thou art thrown
On the world's waste, unfriended and alone?
Oh! hapless Infancy! if aught could move The hardest heart to pity and to love,
'Twere surely found in thee: dim passions mark Stern manhood's brow, where age impresses dark The stealing line of sorrow; but thine eye
Wears not distrust, or grief, or perfidy:-
Though fortune's storms with dismal shadow low'r,
Thy heart nor fears, nor feels, the bitter show'r;
Thy tear is soon forgotten; thou wilt weep,
And then the murmuring winds will hush thy sleep,
As 'twere with some sad musick;—and thy smiles,
Unlike to those that mask oft cruel wiles,
Plead best thy speechless innocence, and lend
A charm might win the world to be thy friend!
But thou art oft abandon'd in thy smiles,
And early vice thy easy heart beguiles.
O for some voice, that of the secret maze
Where the grim passions lurk, the winding ways
That lead to sin, and ruth, and deep lament,
Might haply warn thee, whilst yet innocent,
And beauteous as the spring-time o'er the hills
Advancing, when each vale glad musick fills!
Else lost and wand'ring, the benighted mind
No spot of rest again shall ever find:
Then the sweet smiles, that erst enchanting laid
Their magick beauty on thy look, shall fade:
Then the bird's warbl'd song no more shall cheer
With morning musick thy delighted ear:
Fell thoughts and muttering passions shall awake,
And the fair rose the sully'd cheek forsake!
As when still Autumn's gradual gloom is laid Far o'er the fading forest's sadden'd shade, A mournful gleam illumines the cold hill, Yet palely wandering o'er the distant rill; But when the hollow gust, slow rising, raves, And high the pine on yon lone summit waves, Each milder charm, like pictures of a dream, Is perish'd, mute the birds, and dark the stream! Scuds the drear sleet upon the whirlwind borne, And scouls the landscape clouded and forlorn!-
So fades, so perishes, frail Virtue's hue :-
Her last and lingering smile seems but to rue,
Like Autumn, every summer beauty reft,
Till all is dark and to the winter left.
Yet Spring, with living touch, shall paint again
The green-leav'd forest, and the purple plain;
With mingling melody the woods shall ring,
The whisp'ring breeze its long-lost incense fling:
But, Innocence! when once thy tender flower
The sickly taint has touch'd, where is that power
That shall bring back its fragrance, or restore
The tints of loveliness, that shine no more?
How then for thee, who pinest in life's gloom,
Abandon'd child! shall hope or virtue bloom!
For thee, expos'd amid the desert drear,
Which no glad gales or vernal sunbeams cheer?
Though some there are, who lift their head sublime, Nor heed the transient storms of fate or time; Too oft, alas! beneath unfriendly skies, The tender blossom shrinks its leaves, and dies!
Go, struggle with thy fate, pursue thy wayThough thou art poor, the world around is gay. Thou hast no bread; but on thy aching sight Proud luxury's pavilions glitter bright;
|