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A book of Bristol sonnets

By H. D. Rawnsley

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EDWARD COLSTON.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


105

EDWARD COLSTON.

BORN IN THIS CITY, NOVEMBER 2, 1636.

Who threw down guineas, but required his pence,
His hands are dust, his purpose still survives,
What God had given unto us he gives,
And generations own his providence!
Hence, Age is honoured, Sailors rest; and hence,
The gold he brought to learning's busy hives
Feeds a fresh swarm for work; the Scholar thrives,
Blessed by the sad-faced man's benevolence!
Each widow—Wife, each orphan called he—Child;
So to the Lord did all his riches lend!
He spake few words; but though men frowned or smiled,
Stood by his speech in honour to the end!
So wise his love, that dead they only missed
His homely presence,—true Philanthropist!
 

These are allusions to the Saint Michael's Hill Almshouse, 1691; the Merchants' Alms-house in King Street, 1691; the Temple School, 1696; and Hospital on Saint Augustine's Back, 1708, since removed to Stapleton, which Colston built and endowed.

When twitted by his friends with his celibacy, Colston would always make this answer: “Every widow is my wife, and every orphan my child.” Garrard's Life of Colston.