Page images
PDF
EPUB

Denounce no doom on the delinquent?—None.
He lives, and o'er his brimming beaker boasts
(As if barbarity were high desert)

Th' inglorious feat, and, clamorous in praise
Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose
The honours of his matchless horse his own!
But many a crime, deem'd innocent on earth,
Is register'd in heav'n; and these, no doubt,
Have cach their record, with a curse annex'd.
Man may dismiss compassion from his heart,
But God will never. When he charg❜d the Jew
T'assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise;
And when the bush-exploring boy, that sciz'd
The young, to let the parent bird go free;
Prov'd he not plainly that his meaner works
Are yet his care, and have an int'rest all,
All, in the universal Father's love?

On Noah, and in him, on all mankind,

The charter was conferr'd, by which we hold
The flesh of animals in fee, and claim

O'er all we feed on pow'r of life and death.
But read the instrument, and mark it well:
Th' oppression of a tyrannous control

Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield

Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute!

I would not enter on my list of friends (Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine

sense,

Yet wanting sensibility) the man

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail
That crawls at ev'ning in the public path;
But he that has humanity, forewarn'd,
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.

FASHIONABLE

FRIENDSHIP.

WHENCE comes it then, that in the wane of life,
Though nothing have occurr'd to kindle strife,
We find the friends we fancied we had won,
Though num'rous once, reduc'd to few or none?
Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch?
No-gold they seem'd, but they were never such.

Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, Swinging the parlour-door upon its hinge, Dreading a negative, and overaw'd

Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go. abroad.
Go, fellow-whither?-turning short about-
Nay stay at home-you're always going out.
"Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end.—
For what? An please you, sir, to see a friend.
A friend! Horatio cried, and scem'd to start-
Yea marry shalt thou, and with all my heart.-

And fetch my cloak; for, though the night be raw, I'll see him too-the first I ever saw.

I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, And was his plaything often when a child; But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close, Else he was seldom bitter or morose.

Perhaps, his confidence just then betray'd,

His grief might prompt him with the speech he

made;

Perhaps 'twas mere good-humour gave it birth,
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth.
Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind,
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.

THE POET.

I KNOW the mind that feels indeed the fire
The muse imparts, and can command the lyre,
Acts with a force, and kindles with a zeal,
Whate'er the theme, that others never feel.
If human woes her soft attention claim,
A tender sympathy pervades the frame,
She pours a sensibility divine

Along the nerve of ev'ry feeling line.
But, if a deed not tamely to be born
Fire indignation and a sense of scorn,

The strings are swept with such a pow'r so loud,
The storm of music shakes th' astonish'd crowd.
So, when remote futurity is brought

Before the keen inquiry of her thought,
A terrible sagacity informs

The poet's heart; he looks to distant storms;
He hears the thunder ere the tempest low'rs;
And, arm'd with strength surpassing human pow'rs,
Seizes events as yet unknown to man,

And darts his soul into the dawning plan.

« PreviousContinue »