Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ah me! behold! where, trembling, palsied, poor,
Bent down with years, yon aged father stands!
Plac'd by the public-way, his lips implore
A scanty gift from passing pitying hands!
See, while whirling careless by
Pompous equipages fly,
From his bald head, as it shakes,
His wither'd hand the covering takes;
Holds it forth, and humbly sues,
“Oh, for mercy don't refuse,
“From your plenty to bestow
“Mite on age depress'd with woe!
“Seventy years have left me here,
“Friendless, helpless, weak, and bare;
“Mercy, tender mercy show
“Upon age depress'd with woe!”

II.

Old fire! Thou need'st not ask of me,
I have an heart which feels for thee!
Feels for myself, and for my kind,
While sad reflection fills my mind!
— After a life of seventy years,
In labour spent, and fraught with cares;
Thus doth the toilsome journey end,
With loss of strength, support, and friend!—

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III.

Thou, gracious God! whose works all-bounteous prove
Thy care paternal of the human race,
Teach me the tokens of thy general love,
In such an object teach me, Lord! to trace.
Hail Immortality! I see
Its ample proof, old fire! in thee.
Hail Immortality! man's pride!
The God, the God is justify'd!
Or age, or pain, or want attend
The mortal at his journey's end,
Swift shall a mighty change ensue:
Such miracles the grave can do!

IV.

Yet must the mind for realms of bliss be meet,
Nor foul or sordid thoughts incrust it o'er.
How hard for those to scape, whose creeping feet
Bear them to beg vile alms from door to door!
Some states there are so wretched—I admire
How human nature can the weight sustain!
But quench'd in such is that celestial fire,
Which gives the generous heart its honest pain.
Then, hear me, heav'n! whate'er of ills befal,
Bless'd independence grant me to maintain;
Come age, with all its woes, I'll bear them all,
Nor ever impious at thy will complain!
But take not, never from me take—
The heart which loves to feel and ake,

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Ake at sorrow's sore distress,
Feel, as quick to aid and bless!
Never to my pow'r deny
Means, the wretched to supply:
Never from my soul remove
The luxury of Christian love!
Then, what thou wilt, or take or give;
For this, this, only, is to live.