Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE PARISH POOR HOUSE.

BEHOLD yon house that holds the parish poor,
Whose walls of mud fcarce bear the broken door;
There, where the putrid vapours flagging play,
And the dull wheel hums doleful thro' the day:
There children dwell who know no parent's care;
Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there;
Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed,
Forfaken wives, and mothers never wed;
Dejected widows with unheeded tears,

And crippled age with more than childhood fears!
The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they !
The moping idiot, and the madman gay.
Here too the fick their final doom receive,

Here brought, amid the fcenes of grief, to grieve:
Where the loud groans from fome fad chamber flow,
Mix'd with the clamours of the crowd below;
Here forrowing they each kindred forrow fcan,
And the cold charities of man to man:
Whofe laws indeed for ruin'd age provide,

And ftrong compulfion plucks the fcrap from pride;
But ftill that fcrap is bought with many a figh,
And pride embitters what it can't deny.

Such is that room which one rude beam divides,

And naked rafters form the floping fides;

Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are seen,
And lath and mud are all that lie between;

Save one dull pane, that, coarfely patch'd, gives way
To the rude tempeft, yet excludes the day :
Here, on a matted flock, with duft o'erspread,
The drooping wretch reclines his languid head;
For hiin no hand the cordial cup applies,
Nor wipes the tear that flagnates in his eyes;

LE FEVRE.

[graphic]

my

Gregory fe

"You shall go
Uncle TOBY, to my house, and will send &c.

home directly, LE FEVRE," said

No friends with foft difcourfe his pain beguile,
Nor promife hope till fickness wears a smile.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE SPORTING CLERGYMAN.

CRABBE,

BUT ere his death fome pious doubts arise,
Some fimple fears which "bold bad” men despise;
Fain would he ask the parish priest to prove
His title certain to the joys above;

[ocr errors]

For this he fends the murmuring nurfe, who calls
The holy ftranger to thefe difmal walls
And doth not he, the pious man appear,
He," paffing rich with forty pounds a year?"
Ah no! a fhepherd of a different stock,
And far unlike him, feeds this little flock;
A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's task
As much as God or man can fairly ask;
The reft he gives to loves and labours light,
To fields the morning, and to feafts the night;
None better skill'd the noisy pack to guide,
To urge their chace, to cheer them, or to chide;
Sure in his hot, his game he feldom mifs'd,
And seldom fail'd to win his game at whist;
Then, while fuch honours bloom around his head,
Shall he fit fadly by the fick man's bed,

To raise the hope he feels not, or with zeal
To combat fears that ev'n the pious feel?

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE POLITE CLERGYMAN.

ARE these the meffengers, whofe warning voice
Should call from vanity to works of life,

CRABBE.

And honeftly "reprove, exhort, admonish ?"
Fearless of pride, and deaf to pleafure's call-
And lucre's fophiftry, who pure fhould walk.
And by example point the way to Heaven?
No, they are traitors in the camp of Christ,.
Who come with plausible and faithless lips
Into his prefence to profefs allegiance,

Then turn their backs and give the hand to Mammon.
In pleasure's tumult who more oft than they?
To Dura's golden idol who will bend

*Ifa.v. 20%.

With humbler front? The frown of wealthy vice
They fear, and, heedlefs of the threaten'd woe,
Bitter for fweet, and sweet for bitter put,*
And thus adulterate the bread of life.
Yes, fpirit of Cowper, I obey and lift
Thy harp with holy indignation fir'd,

Pour forth, these strains, not more fevere than juft:

"Loofe in morals, and in manners vain,

In converfation frivolous, in drefs

1

Extreme, at once rapacious and profufe;
Frequent in park, with lady at their fide,
Ambling and prattling fcandal as they go,
But rare at home, and never at their books,
Or with their pen, fave when they fcrawl a card,
Conftant at routs, familiar with a round
Of ladyships-but ftrangers to the poor;:
Ambitious of preferment for its gold,
And well-prepar'd, by ignorance and floth,
By infidelity and love of the world,

To make God's work a finecure; firm flaves
To their own pleasures and their patron's pride:
Who mount the facred roftrum with a skip,
And then skip down again; pronounce a text;
Cry-hem; and, reading what they never wrote,
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,

« VorigeDoorgaan »