ANONYMOUS. THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. PITY the forrows of a poor old man, Whofe trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Oh, give relief, and Heaven will bless your store! Thefe tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak, Thefe hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years; Yon houfe, erected on the rifing ground, Oh, take me to your hofpitable dome! Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold! Should I reveal the fources of my grief, If foft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, And tears of pity would not be reprefs'd. Heaven fends misfortunes; why should we repine? 'Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you fee ; And your condition may be foon like mine, The Child of Sorrow and of Mifery. A little farm was my paternal lot, Then, like the lark, I fprightly hail'd the morn; Struck with fad anguish at the stern decree, And left the world to wretchednefs and me. Pity the forrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whofe days are dwindled to the shortest span! Oh, give relief, and heaven will blefs your flore! ODE, TO HOPE. I. FRIEND to the wretch whose bosom knows no joy! Parent of blifs, beyond the reach of fate! Celestial HOPE! thon gift divine! Sweet balm of grief! O ftill be mine! When pains torment and cares annoy, Thou only canft their force abate, And gild the gloom which fhades this mortal state. That wond'rous power was given, To raise the foul from thoughtless mirth, Nor pain nor pleasure can its force destroy, II. Fancy, wave thy airy pinions, Spread o'er all thy wide dominions Their guiltless bofoms know no fear : Where are the foft delufions fled ? Muft Wifdom teach the foul to mourn? Return, ye days of ignorance, return! Before my eyes your fairy visions spread! Alas! thofe fairy vifions charm no more, III. Hark! the fprightly voice of pleasure Calls to yonder rofy bow'r, There she scatters all her treasure, There exerts her magic pow'r. Liften to the pleasing call, Lead the dance, and fpread the feast, Now the fprightly minstrels found, Pleafure's voice is heard around, And Pleasure's fprightly voice the hills and dales refound. Whence arose that fecret figh What fudden gloom o'erclouds thy cheerful brow? Say, does not every pleasure wait thee now, That e'er could charm the ear, or court the eye? In vain does Nature lavish all her ftore; The confcious fpirit ftill afpires, Still purfues fome new defires, And, every with obtain'd, it fighs and pants for more. IV. Are thefe, O Hope! the glories of thy reign? Still with ardour strive to gain And when at length the fatal hour is come, Rife, heavenly visions, rife! And every vain delufive fear controul; Thy beams the finking heart can cheer, It feeks that heaven from whence it came, The foul, for perfect blifs defign'd, Strives in vain that blifs to find, 'Till wing'd by Hope, at length it flies Beyond the narrow bounds of earth, and air, and skies. VI. Still unmov'd, let Hope remain Pains torment, or cares annoy: |