Artlefs as the gentle virtues, Manfion'd in the blameless breast. When to pure and timid virtue O'er the fair selected garland Thou thy perfume soft shalt breathe. SYBILLA. THE DEBTOR. CHILDREN of affluence, hear a poor man's pray'rl O hafte, and free me from this dungeon's gloom! Let not the hand of comfortless Despair Sink my grey hairs with forrow to the tomb! Unus'd Compaffion's tribute to demand, With clamorous din wake Charity's dull ear; Wring the flow aid from Pity's loitering hand, Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready tear: Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours, But ah! how quick the change! the morning gleam, Such is the lot of human blifs below! Fond Hope awhile the trembling flow'ret rears; Till, unforeseen, defcends the blight of Woe, And withers in an hour the pride of years. In evil hour, to fpecious wiles a prey, Where could I feek for comfort, or for aid? Too late I found the wretched have no friend! E'en he, amid the rest, the favor'd youth, Pity in vain stretch'd forth her feeble hand While pale-eye'd Avarice, from his fordid stand Tho' deeply hurt, yet fway'd by decent pride, And funk in filent anguish to the grave. Children of affluence, hear a poor man's pray'r, Sink my grey hairs with forrow to the tomb. MORE. THE MOUSE's PETITION. FOUND IN A TRAP WHERE HE HAD REEN CONFINED, ALL NIGHT. OH! hear a penfive prifoner's prayer, For liberty that fighs; And never let thine heart be shut Against the wretch's cries. For here forlorn and fad I fit, Within the wiry grate; And tremble at th' approaching morn, If e'er thy breaft with freedom glow'd, O! do not stain with guiltlefs blood Nor triumph that thy wiles betray'd The scatter'd gleanings of a feaft That flender boon deny, The cheerful light, the vital air, The well-taught philofophic mind Cafts round the world an equal eye, And feels for all that lives. If mind, as ancient fages taught, Still fhifts thro' matter's various forms, Beware, left in the worm you crush, And tremble, left thy lucklefs hand Or, if this transient gleam of day Be all of life we share; Let pity plead within thy breast, So may thy hofpitable board With health and peace be crown'd; So, when deftruction lurks unfeen, MRS. BARBAULD, |