Where in the dungeon's loathfome fhade,
The fpeechlefs Captive clanks his chain,
With heartless hope to raise that aid
His feeble cries have call'd in vain :
Thine eye his dumb complaint explores;
Thy voice his parting breath reftores;
Thy cares his ghaftly vifage clear

From Death's chill dew, with many a clotted tear,
And to his thankful foul returning life endear,

What precious Drug, or ftronger Charm,
Thy conftant fortitude infpires
In fcenes, whence, muttering her alarm,
Med'cine*, with felfish dread, retires?
Nor Charm, nor Drug, difpel thy fears:
Temperance, thy better guard, appears ;
For thee I fee her fondly fill

Her cryftal cup from Nature's pureft rill;
Chief nourisher of life! beft antidote of ill !

I fee the hallow'd fhade of HALES T Who felt, like thee, for human woe, And taught the health-diffufing gales Thro' Horror's murky cells to blow,

* Muffabat tacito Medecina timore. LUCRETIUS. STEPHEN HALES, minifter of Teddington: he died at the age of 84, 1761; and has been justly called "An ornament to his profeffion, as a clergyman, and

to his country, as a philofopher." I had the happinefs of knowing this excellent man, when I was very young; and well remember the warm glow of benevolence which used to animate his countenance, in relating the fuccefs of his various projects for the benefit of mankind. I have frequently heard him dwell with great pleasure on the fortunate incident which led him to the

As thy protecting angel wait;

To fave thee from the fnares of Fate,
Commiffion'd from the Eternal Throne :

I hear him praife, in wonder's warmest tone,
The virtues of thy heart, more active than his owu.

Thy foul fupplies new funds of health
That fail not in the trying hour,
Above Arabia's spicy wealth

And Pharmacy's reviving power..
The tranfports of the generous mind,
Feeling its bounty to mankind,

Infpirit every mortal part;

And, far more potent than precarious art,

Give radiance to the eye, and vigor to the heart.

Bleft HOWARD! who like thee can feel
This vital fpring in all its force?
New ftar of philanthropic zeal;
Enlight'ning nations in thy courfe!
And hedding Comfort's heavenly dew
On meagre Want's deferted crew!

Friend to the wretch, whom friends difclaim,
Who feels ftern Juftice, in his famish'd frame,
A perfecuting fiend beneath an angel's name.

difcovery of his Ventilator, to which I have alluded.-He had ordered a new floor for one of his rooms; his carpenter not having prepared the work fo foon as he expected, he thought the feafon improper for laying down new boards, when they were brought to his houfe, and gave orders for their being depofited in his barn;-from their accidental pofition in that place, he caught his firft idea of this useful invention.

Authority unfeeling power,
Whofe iron heart can coldly doom
The Debtor, drag'd from Pleafure's bower,
To ficken in the dungeon's gloom!
O might thy terror-triking call,
Profufion's fons alone enthrall!

But thou canft Want with Guilt confound:

Thy bonds the man of virtuous toil furround,
Driven by malicious Fate within thy dreary bound.

How favage are thy fern decrees?

Thy cruel minifter I fee

A weak, laborious victim seize,
By worth entitled to be free!
Behold, in the afflicting strife,
The faithful partner of his life,
In vain thy ruthless fervant court,
To fpare her little children's fole fupport,

Whom this terrific form has frighten'd from their fport.

Nor weeps the only from the thought,
Thofe infants muft no longer thare
His aid, whofe daily labour bought
The pittance of their fcanty fare.
The horrors of the loathsome jail
Her inly-bleeding heart affail:

E'en now her fears, from fondness bred,
See the loft partner of her faithful bed

Drop, in that murd'rous scene, his pale, expiring head.

Take comfort yet in these keen pains,
Fond mourner! check thy gufhing tears!
The dungeon now no more contains
Those perils which thy fancy fears:
No more Contagion's baleful breath
Speaks it the hideous cave of Death :
HOWARD has planted fafety there;
Pure minifter of light! his heavenly care

Has purg'd the damp of Death from that polluted air.

His care exulting BRITAIN found
Here firft difplay'd, not here confin'd!
No fingle tract of earth could bound
The active virtues of his mind.
To all the lands, where'er the tear,
That mourn'd the Prifoner's wrongs fevere,
Sand Pity's glift'ning cheek impearl'd,
Eager he fleer'd, with every fail unfurl'd,

A friend to every clime a Patriot of the World?

Ye nations thro' whofe fair domain
Our flying fons of joy have paft,
By Pleafure driven with loofen'd rein,
Aftonifh'd that they flew fo faft!
How did the heart-improving fight
Awake your wonder and delight,
When, in her unexampled chace,

Philanthropy outftrip'd keen Pleasure's pace,
When with a warmer foul fhe ran a nobler race!

Where-e'er her generous Briton went,

Princes his fupplicants became :

He feem'd the enquiring angel, fent
To fcrutinize their fecret hame *.
Captivity, where he appear'd,

Her languid head with tranfport rear'd;

And gazing on her godlike gueft,

Like thofe of old, whom Heaven's pure fervant bleft,
L'en by his fhadow feem'd of demons disposest.

Amaz'd her foreign children cry,
Seeing their patron pafs along;

* I am credibly informed that several Princes, or at leaft perfons in authority, requested Mr. Howard not to publish a minute account of fome prifons, which reflected difgrace on their government.

14

?

"O! who is he, whofe daring eye
"Can fearch into our hidden wrong
"What monarch's Heaven-directed mind,

"With royal bounty unconfin'd,

"Has tempted Freedom's fon to fhare

"Thefe perils; fearching with an angel's care "Each cell of dire Disease, each cavern of Defpair?"

No monarch's word, nor lucre's luft,

Nor vain ambition's reftlefs fire,

Nor ample power, that facred truft!

His life-diffufing toils infpire:

Rous'd by no voice, fave that whofe cries

Internal bid the foul arife

From joys, that only feem to blefs,

From low purfuits, which little minds poffefs,

To Nature's noblet aim, the Succour of Diftrefs!

Taught by that God, in Mercy's robe, Who his cœleftial throne refign'd,

To free the prifon of the globe

From vice, th' oppreffor of th' mind!
For thee, of mifery's rights bereft,

For thee, Captivity! he left

Fair Fortune's lap, who, far from coy,

Bade him with fmiles his golden hours employ
In her delicious bower, the festive scene of joy!

While to thy virtue's utmoft fcope

I boldly strive my aim to raise
As high as mortal hand may hope

*

To shoot the glittering fhaft of Praise;