The Beggar's Petition. 93 THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. PI Ty the sorrows of a poor old man W hose trembling limbs have borne him to your door; W hose days are dwindled to the shortest spanO give relief! and Heaven will bless your store. These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak, Tlaese hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years; A nd many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek Has been the channel to a flood of tears. Ton house erected on the rising ground, Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor. O take 94 The Dying Negro. O take me to your hospitable home! Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold: Pity the sorrows 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 sickly languors are shed, And the dark mists 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, slow beats my heart, and I hasten to rest; No more shall sharp anguish my faint bosom rend, For the strong arm of death is the arm of a friend. No The Beau Disconcerted. 95 No more shall I sink in the deep scorching air, No more shall 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 smil'd at my tear, Now, now shall I'scape, every suffering shall end, For the strong arm of death is the arm of a friend. THE BEAU DISCONCERTED. I've seen a beau, in some ill-fated hour, When o'er the stones chok'd kennels swell the shower, In gilded chariot loll. He with disdain Views spatter'd passengers all drench'd in rain. With mud fill'd high the rumbling cart draws near: Now rule thy prancing steeds, lac'd charioteer! Crush'd Crush'd is thy pride, down falls the shrieking beau, The slabby pavement crystal fragments strow; Black floods of mire the splendid dress disgrace, And mud enwraps the honours of his face. GAY. EXERCISE. LET sloth lie soft'ning till high noon in down, I mount the courser, call the deep-mouth'd hounds, I lead where stags through tangled thickets tread, And shake the saplings with their branching head; I make the falcons wing their airy way, PARNEL To a Robin Redbreast. 97 TO A ROBIN REDBREAST. LITTLE bird with bosom red, Doubt not, little though there be, j |