 | A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems |  |
165
JOHN HOWARD.
A spirit of unwearied zeal,
Patience, which nothing could subdue,
A heart the woes of man to feel,
In every varied form and hue;
An open hand, and eye, and ear,
For all in prisons doomed to pine;
A voice the captive's hopes to cheer;—
These, noble Howard! these were thine.
Patience, which nothing could subdue,
A heart the woes of man to feel,
In every varied form and hue;
An open hand, and eye, and ear,
For all in prisons doomed to pine;
A voice the captive's hopes to cheer;—
These, noble Howard! these were thine.
In cells by Mercy's feet untrod
'Twas thine the mourner's lot to scan;
Thy polar star the love of God,
Thy chart and compass love to man.
To mitigate the law's stern wrath
Thou trod'st, with steadfast heart and eye,
“An open, unfrequented path
To fame and immortality!”
'Twas thine the mourner's lot to scan;
Thy polar star the love of God,
Thy chart and compass love to man.
166
Thou trod'st, with steadfast heart and eye,
“An open, unfrequented path
To fame and immortality!”
What was thy meed? a stranger's grave,
Divided from thy native land
By many a white and stormy wave,
By many a weary waste of sand.
Yet to that lone and distant tomb
Thy name its memory may entrust,
'Till cloudless glory burst its gloom,
And thou shalt rise to meet the just!
Divided from thy native land
By many a white and stormy wave,
By many a weary waste of sand.
Yet to that lone and distant tomb
Thy name its memory may entrust,
'Till cloudless glory burst its gloom,
And thou shalt rise to meet the just!
| A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems | |