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The Beggar's Petition.

93

THE BEGGAR'S PETITION.

PITY the forrows of a poor old man,

Whofe trembling limbs have borne him to your door;

Whofe days are dwindled to the shortest spanO give relief! and Heaven will bless your store.

These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years;
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek
Has been the channel to a flood of tears.

Yon house, erected on the rifing ground,
With tempting afpect drew me from my road;
For plenty there a refidence has found,
And grandeur a magnificent abode.

Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor.
Here, as I crav'd a morfel of their bread,
A pamper'd menial drove me from the door
To feek a fhelter in a humbler shed.

O take

94

The Dying Negro.

O take me to your hofpitable home!

Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold:
Short is my paffage to the friendly tomb,
For I am poor, and miferably old.

Pity the forrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door;

Whose days are dwindled to the shortest spanO give relief! and Heaven will bless your store.

THE DYING NEGRO.

O'ER my toil-wither'd limbs fickly languors are fhed,

And the dark mifts of death on my eyelids are spread;

Before my last sufferings how gladly I bend!
For the strong arm of death is the arm of a friend.

Against the hot breezes hard struggles my breast, Slow, flow beats my heart, and I hasten to rest; No more fhall fharp anguifh my faint bofom rend, For the ftrong arm of death is the arm of a friend.

No

The Beau Difconcerted.

95

No more fhall I fink in the deep scorching air, No more fhall keen hunger my weak body tear; No more on my limbs shall swift lashes descend, For the strong arm of death is the arm of a friend.

Ye ruffians! who tore me from all I held dear, Who mock'd at my wailings and fmil'd at my

tear,

Now, now thall I 'fcape, every suffering fhall end, For the strong arm of death is the arm of a friend.

THE BEAU DISCONCERTED.

I'VE feen a beau, in fome ill-fated hour,
When o'er the ftones chok'd kennels fwell the
fhower,

In gilded chariot loll. He with difdain.
Views Ipatter'd paffengers all drench'd in rain.
With mud fill'd high the rumbling cart draws

near:

Now rule thy prancing steeds, lac'd charioteer!
The duftman lafhes on with fpiteful rage,
His ponderous fpokes thy painted wheel engage.

Crufh'd

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Crush'd is thy pride, down falls the fhrieking beau,

The flabby pavement crystal fragments strow; Black floods of mire the splendid dress disgrace, And mud enwraps the honours of his face.

GAY,

EXERCISE.

LET floth lie foft'ning till high noon in down,
Or lolling fan her in the fultry town;

I mount the courfer, call the deep-mouth'd hounds,
The fox unkennel'd flies to covert grounds;

I lead where ftags through tangled thickets tread, And shake the faplings with their branching head;

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I make the falcons wing their airy way,

And foar to feize or stooping strike their prey;
To fnare the fish I fix the luring bait;
To wound the fowl I load the gun with fate.
"T is thus through change of exercise I range,
And strength and pleasure rife from every change.

PARNEL.

I

To a Robin Redbreaft.

97

TO A ROBIN REDBREAST.

LITTLE bird with bofom red,
Welcome to my humble shed;
Courtly domes of high degree
Have no room for thee and me:
Pride and pleasure's fickle throng
Nothing mind an idle fong.
Daily near my table steal
While I pick my scanty meal;
Doubt not, little though there be,
But I'll caft a crumb to thee;
Well rewarded if I fpy

Pleasure in thy glancing eye,-
See thee when thou 'ft eat thy fill,
Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill.
Come, my feather'd friend, again,
Well thou know'ft the broken pane;
Ask of me thy daily store;
Go not near Avaro's door:
Once within his iron hall,
Woful end fhall thee befall.

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