Yet what can these the hapless youth avail,
When thy insidious train his frame assail?
What from his breast avert th' impending blow,
That soon shall lay his blooming honours low?
Mark yonder fair, that lightly trips the green,
Inferior scarce to beauty's fabled queen;
In every movement what attractive grace!
What worth depicted in her beauteous face!
How bright her glist'ning eye! her mien how meek!
How clear the tints upon her blushing cheek!
Who, as along the lovely fair one glides,
Would think that death amidst those charms resides?
Yet there, triumphing o'er his soothing wiles,
In secret ambuscade CONSUMPTION Smiles;
Each grace to heighten every art employs;
And ornaments the form his hand destroys!
Thus in the sacrificial rites of old,
The destin'd victim, fairest of the fold,
With flowers was crown'd ere to the altar led;
And midst the fatal decorations bled!
Yet though his course unmov'd the despot keep,
And through each vein his subtle poison creep,
Delusive Hope, in robes celestial drest,
Instils sweet cordials in the friendly breast.
The drooping parents her suggestions cheer;
A lovelier bloom their darling's features wear;
And, as their eyes each fancied change explore, They fondly deem the threaten'd danger o'er; And trust, in years remote, from her to prove The last sad offices of filial love!
Perhaps some husband o'er a consort hung,
Brimful his eyes and mute his quivering tongue,
With wistful glance her mien may contemplate,
And trace the symptoms of approaching fate;
Or when the hectic flush adorns her face,
And o'er each feature sheds peculiar grace,
May the enchanting sight auspicious deem;
On long, long years of mutual pleasure dream;
While on his view once more kind Fancy pours
The blissful visions of the nuptial hours !—
Officious Muse! the mournful theme decline,
Nor longer brood o'er scenes that once were
mine!
Too soon shall Time disrupt the filmy veil;
Too soon the tyrant's ruthless hand prevail !
The throbbing breast, the lustre-lacking eye,
The clay-cold hand, the last heart-rending sigh,
The passing knell, the funeral array,
The narrow dwelling for the lifeless clay,
The sounding earth upon its cover cast,
Too soon shall speak the dear delusion past!
How fruitless oft the sage Physician's aim
To reinvigorate the wasting frame,
And thence Consumption, (inmate dire !) expel,
Thy recent loss, Benevolus !* may tell.
Not all thy skill in Esculapian lore,
Arm'd with each med'cine from th' exhaustless store
In Nature's womb by chemic process drawn,
Or choicest simples from the verdant lawn;
Not all that art or science could suggest,
Or the warm feelings of a parent's breast—
Could the insidious spoiler's claim evade,
Nor rescue from his grasp thy lovely maid!
Yet though, like flowers beneath a wintry sky,
Ere scarcely blown, life's fairest blossoms die,
Must our unfeign'd regret no period know;
Our trickling tears in ceaseless currents flow?
May not true Wisdom balms of sovereign use
From these afflictive strokes of Heaven educe;
As the industrious bees, by nature's law,
From bitter plants mellifluous juices draw?
Who can thy early fall, Florella, view,
Nor, while he ponders, learn to tremble too!
Who at his fate in riper years repine,
That knows how soon the cheerless tomb was thine!
E'en round the couch, where gasping oft for breath,
A youthful victim waits the stroke of death,
* Dr. J. Alderson, of Hull,-to whom the author acknow. leges himself indebted for numerous kind offices during a long series of years.
Some viewless being mournful pleasure show'rs
More sweet than e'er enjoy'd in Folly's bowers;
Wakes in each breast a sympathetic glow,
And gen❜rous pity for another's woe:
While dear sensations, words can ne'er pourtray,
Affection's last sad offices repay!
Here slighted Reason, too, her power resumes,
And strips the world of its deceptive plumes;
And while she views, at Death's imperious call,
Youth, beauty, virtue, prematurely fall—
On grounds no earthly influence can remove,
No specious arts of sophistry disprove,
Draws this conclusion from th' affecting strife,
"There is another, and a better life!"
ON SEEING HER SHED TEARS AT THE RECITAL OF A
CASE OF REAL DISTRESS.
NAY blush not, Miranda, that thus down thy cheek
The warm tribute of sympathy steals;
Nor vainly, impell'd by false modesty, seek
To suppress what each feature reveals!
As, besprent by the dew-drops of morning, the flow'r
More attractive, more graceful appears;
So the fair, whene'er Virtue gives birth to the show'r,
Far more lovely is seen through her tears!
Be it theirs to feel shame, who their sorrow expend
Upon scenes of fictitious distress;
Nor to misery the hand of assistance extend;
Nor the wants of the needy redress!
O'er some fabled disaster, some Werter, who fell
To wild passions a victim, they sigh;
Yet the couch of Disease, meagre Poverty's cell, The dwellings of wretchedness, fly!
But 'tis thine, with true christian benev❜lence endu’d,
While thy tears their bright sources o'erflow,
To eradicate thorns that misfortune has strew'd,
And alleviate the pressure of woe;
From the forehead of sickness to wipe the chill dew,
The fears of despondency calm;
And commingle the ills life discloses to view,
With humanity's soul-soothing balm.
Still let others, while brooding o'er fancy-fram'd tales,
Real claims on their pity discard;
Thy superior desert Justice weighs in her scales,
And apportions a richer reward:
For thy kind consolations, thy labours of love,
Shall the blessings of numbers be given;
The sweet whispers of Conscience thy conduct ap
And thy deeds be recorded in Heav'n!
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