The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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The Power of Royal Pity.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
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The Power of Royal Pity.
Verses, made for a young Gentleman in Despair, and sent to Queen Caroline, by N. C---p---r.
From a moist bank, beneath a silent shade,
Whose dark'ning arch depending willows made,
A death-devoted youth, in day's cool dawn,
Weary of insults, and, from woes, withdrawn.
Long, on the sullen surface, fix'd his view,
And sigh'd—resolv'd to bid loath'd life adieu.
Whose dark'ning arch depending willows made,
A death-devoted youth, in day's cool dawn,
Weary of insults, and, from woes, withdrawn.
Long, on the sullen surface, fix'd his view,
And sigh'd—resolv'd to bid loath'd life adieu.
'Tis but to plunge, he cry'd, one moment, there,
Saves me from sorrow, and out-leaps despair.
Cover'd, with calmness, in this lulling bed,
No fear shall reach my heart, no pain, my head:
Terror, and shame, and want, shall, with me, die,
And anguish be no more alive, than I.
Saves me from sorrow, and out-leaps despair.
Cover'd, with calmness, in this lulling bed,
No fear shall reach my heart, no pain, my head:
Terror, and shame, and want, shall, with me, die,
And anguish be no more alive, than I.
Yet, one dear mourner will my death distress,
Whom I would live for, could I live, to bless!
Her tears are tortures, which I cannot bear;
Her charms give madness, and her wants despair.
Whom I would live for, could I live, to bless!
Her tears are tortures, which I cannot bear;
Her charms give madness, and her wants despair.
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Just, at his word, the dear distruster came:
Pierc'd the deep gloom, and catch'd the fatal aim.
Trembling, with horror, yet, by love, impell'd,
Timely, she grasp'd him; and, convulsive, held:
Ah! let me keep thee, tho' we beg, she cry'd;
Life has no want, but what's, by love, supply'd:
Wretched, with thee, there's recompence, in pain,
And bless'd, without thee, I were bless'd, in vain.
Hope, suffer, think, resolve, submit, contend:
Move every foe—sollicit every friend!
Die not, thus young—e'er half our days are past,
Love has long years to come: death pulls too fast.
I will not feel distress, while you are kind;
Nor bear a joyless world, you leave behind.
Pierc'd the deep gloom, and catch'd the fatal aim.
Trembling, with horror, yet, by love, impell'd,
Timely, she grasp'd him; and, convulsive, held:
Ah! let me keep thee, tho' we beg, she cry'd;
Life has no want, but what's, by love, supply'd:
Wretched, with thee, there's recompence, in pain,
And bless'd, without thee, I were bless'd, in vain.
Hope, suffer, think, resolve, submit, contend:
Move every foe—sollicit every friend!
Die not, thus young—e'er half our days are past,
Love has long years to come: death pulls too fast.
I will not feel distress, while you are kind;
Nor bear a joyless world, you leave behind.
See! be advis'd: turn, there, your hopeless eye,
View those sweet rising shades, that spread so nigh.
Think, did their royal planter hear my pray'r,
How would she pity my poor heart's despair!
She, the best wife, best mother, daughter, queen!
Ah! that she, now, beheld this dreadful scene!
Think on her smiles—and do but live, to try!
And, if that hope proves vain—I, too, will die.
View those sweet rising shades, that spread so nigh.
Think, did their royal planter hear my pray'r,
How would she pity my poor heart's despair!
She, the best wife, best mother, daughter, queen!
Ah! that she, now, beheld this dreadful scene!
Think on her smiles—and do but live, to try!
And, if that hope proves vain—I, too, will die.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |