 | English melodies |  |
123
TO THE WORLDLING.
If with grief a friend be shaken
If misfortune hover near,
If by ruin overtaken,
Solace not his heart—but sneer!
Say you always thought his spending
Would involve him, soon or late;
You expected such an ending—
Show no pity for his fate:
Taunt him with the Past—and jeer,
Wonder at his ways—and sneer!
If misfortune hover near,
If by ruin overtaken,
Solace not his heart—but sneer!
Say you always thought his spending
Would involve him, soon or late;
You expected such an ending—
Show no pity for his fate:
Taunt him with the Past—and jeer,
Wonder at his ways—and sneer!
True, perchance, ere Fortune's blindness
Wrong'd his warm and gen'rous breast,
You oft shar'd his deepest kindness,
Drank his bumpers, like the rest.
Quaff'd his health in empty speeches,
Made of tinsel words a show;—
Oh! the bitter moral reaches
Every honest heart below.
I could spurn thee, Ingrate, here—
With thy wisdom—and thy sneer!
Wrong'd his warm and gen'rous breast,
You oft shar'd his deepest kindness,
Drank his bumpers, like the rest.
124
Made of tinsel words a show;—
Oh! the bitter moral reaches
Every honest heart below.
I could spurn thee, Ingrate, here—
With thy wisdom—and thy sneer!
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