University of Virginia Library


76

TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR.

IN THE PERSON OF A CLERGYMAM PREFERRED BY HIM.

No!—witness, sweet retreat, and every friend,
Who treads the threshold of this place of rest!
Witness, if I be silent, to commend
His bounty, here who gave me to be blest.
Sweeter than softest music to my ear,
His name shall dwell upon my thankful tongue:
And all who see me, shall be sure to hear
Of Henley's praise, my last and earliest song.
Oh could I speak the fulness of my heart!
Oh for a quill from the bold Theban swan!
Yet, yet my theme, without the aid of art,
Might into flame the coldest bosom fan.
He saw me, drooping in affliction's shade,
Beset with painful penury around:
The noble mind opprest, and sore dismay'd,
And the sad soul with grief's hard shackles bound!

77

He saw me toiling for the scanty meed
Of hireling pastor, humble and unknown:
Full hard beset the little race to feed,
Which waited for their bread from me alone!
Oh painful memory—how oft my breast
Has heav'd with anguish, when a painful tear
Has caught my sight, which in her eye express'd—
My faithful consort, by long truth more dear,
Express'd in her full eye our wants and woes!
Oh melancholy view, forbear my soul!
Look there, where chearful thought enraptur'd glows,
And bless the bounteous Henley for the whole!
He saw: he pitied! pitied and relieved!
Unask'd, unsought, he rear'd my drooping head:
With tenderness innate he saw, and griev'd,
And rais'd us, almost rais'd us, from the dead!
I had no friend, to ask or to implore—
God was my friend, who, in my patron's heart,
Those virtues planted, which adorn him more
Than the best honors best of kings impart.
I had no friend, unpitied and undone,
All hope was hopeless—misery extreme!
When lo! as on the darkness bursts the sun,
On my distress rose Henley's blessing beam!

78

Oh beam heart-chearing, which to wretches gives
New life, new light! my children, speak his praise:
Lisp, lisp, my little ones, his name, who lives
To glad the wretched with his golden rays.
Thou too, my faithful consort, in the tale
Join; to the list'ning world we will declare,
How freely, nobly, from deep trouble's vale,
His hand uprais'd to bliss, and fix'd us here!
For me, while words can dwell upon my tongue,
His goodness, honor, strict integrity,
Firm truth, and patriot zeal, shall be my song!
And when that pow'r death's struggles shall deny;
My last, last prayers shall wing their way to heav'n,
Fervent, for blessings on him; on his race!
While to my children this last charge is giv'n,
“In all your hearts be his the foremost place.”
 

This little poem refers to a real fact, an act of high benevolence of the present Lord Chancellor, which struck me much upon hearing it, and occasioned these lines.