« PreviousContinue »
SWEET is it to the warrior's ear
To mark the clamorous battle cry, But sweeter far the crystal tear
That falls from Pity's moistened eye; And savage is the cruel beast
That prowls round Gondar's lofty tower, But harder far that human breast
That ne'er has felt soft Pity's power.
But see, with ostentatious sneer
Will Laura precious gifts bestow;
But Affectation bids it flow.
True pity acts not such a part;
It dwells in kind Sophia's heart.
Whene'er the poor, worn out with woe,
Oppressed with trouble, years, and grief, From breasts which feel compassion's glow
Solicit mild the kind relief,—
Then Laura opes her ready hand,
The tear bedews Emilia's eye; Sophia quits the selfish band
To soothe the pangs of poverty.
Gold can but present help afford ;
Emilia's tear is wiped away; Sophia feels her just reward,
A bliss which never will decay. This, the reward of virtue, this
Th' unfeeling heart will never know : It is the only earthly bliss
Which is not mixed with earthly woe.
ON THE DEPARTURE OF AN OLD HOUSE
'Tis past; and since she is for ever fled,
Can we forget, now when for aye we part,
ON THE DEPARTURE OF AN OLD HOUSEKEEPER,
Still, when she calls to mind her happiest days,
Let us our ridicule, our mocking, end;