Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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 | Alfred |  |
The woodman answer'd, ‘burdens I have known,
‘Some hard, and long-continued, but, at length,
‘Like all the round of earth's calamities,
‘Aye, and its pleasures too, they died away.
‘E'en let them go. To compensate their loss,
‘Mine is the peaceful conscience,—the sweet joy
‘Religion yields—that softener of the heart,
‘That balm and pledge of an inheritance,
‘Erelong to crown my hopes. But if one pang
‘Still lingers in my breast,—from this it springs;
‘The sight of want, and hard calamity,
‘With power so feeble, to arrest, remove,
‘Or mitigate the evil. Selwood's shades,
‘Thick peopled, in their spacious bounds, contain—
‘Many who, like myself, secluded dwell—
‘These woods the world to them! who oft endure—
‘Privations, hardships;—bitterly deplored—
‘By one who fain would aid them. Mine, a heart
‘(If self-deception lead me not astray)
‘Which would luxuriate in the aim divine—
‘To lessen suff'ring,—ignorance dark, illume,
‘And virtue cherish,—but thus circumscribed
‘By poverty,—that dares not look abroad!—
‘Save when soft pity, prudence will defy,
‘And then from pittance, pittance may be given:
‘So that with pangs, known only to the Highest,
‘Reluctant I retire, beholding those—
‘More privileg'd—applauded, envied not,
‘Who, in their wealth abounding, can devise
‘The kind and liberal thing. Heaven's will be done!
‘My treasure is—a word,—a sigh—a tear.’
‘Some hard, and long-continued, but, at length,
‘Like all the round of earth's calamities,
‘Aye, and its pleasures too, they died away.
‘E'en let them go. To compensate their loss,
‘Mine is the peaceful conscience,—the sweet joy
‘Religion yields—that softener of the heart,
‘That balm and pledge of an inheritance,
‘Erelong to crown my hopes. But if one pang
‘Still lingers in my breast,—from this it springs;
‘The sight of want, and hard calamity,
‘With power so feeble, to arrest, remove,
‘Or mitigate the evil. Selwood's shades,
‘Thick peopled, in their spacious bounds, contain—
‘Many who, like myself, secluded dwell—
‘These woods the world to them! who oft endure—
‘Privations, hardships;—bitterly deplored—
‘By one who fain would aid them. Mine, a heart
‘(If self-deception lead me not astray)
‘Which would luxuriate in the aim divine—
‘To lessen suff'ring,—ignorance dark, illume,
‘And virtue cherish,—but thus circumscribed
‘By poverty,—that dares not look abroad!—
‘Save when soft pity, prudence will defy,
‘And then from pittance, pittance may be given:
‘So that with pangs, known only to the Highest,
‘Reluctant I retire, beholding those—
‘More privileg'd—applauded, envied not,
213
‘The kind and liberal thing. Heaven's will be done!
‘My treasure is—a word,—a sigh—a tear.’
| Alfred | |