 | My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays |  |
117
DISINTERESTEDNESS,
A FABLE.
IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH PROSE.
Avaro to the Rector flies;
Why sleeps thy zeal, the usurer cries,
Extortions stalk around;
Their gripe the heir expectant drains,
Their's are the venturous merchant's gains,
By which the poor are ground!
It is thy trade, returned the priest;
The sharpest of thy kind:
Thou should'st be merciful—at least,
As thou would'st mercy find.
Why sleeps thy zeal, the usurer cries,
Extortions stalk around;
Their gripe the heir expectant drains,
Their's are the venturous merchant's gains,
By which the poor are ground!
It is thy trade, returned the priest;
The sharpest of thy kind:
Thou should'st be merciful—at least,
As thou would'st mercy find.
Ah pray! sir priest, thy task attend,
Nor let the growing tribe extend;
No more my coffer feels its hoards,
The exhausted field no grain affords,
The springs of wealth are dry—
Then with denouncing voice restrain,
The NUMBERS of extortion's train,
Numbers more rich than I.
Let hapless me those curses bear,
Which now an hundred usurers share,
With hearts more hard than stone!
We read, one sentenced he goat lost,
Redeemed the sin sequestered host;—
Thus heap the offender's crimes on me.
I would the SINGLE victim be—
Guilt, shame, and grasping profit—all my own!
Nor let the growing tribe extend;
No more my coffer feels its hoards,
The exhausted field no grain affords,
The springs of wealth are dry—
Then with denouncing voice restrain,
The NUMBERS of extortion's train,
Numbers more rich than I.
Let hapless me those curses bear,
Which now an hundred usurers share,
With hearts more hard than stone!
We read, one sentenced he goat lost,
Redeemed the sin sequestered host;—
Thus heap the offender's crimes on me.
I would the SINGLE victim be—
Guilt, shame, and grasping profit—all my own!
| My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays | |