 | Poems |  |
185
SACRED TO HUMANITY.
How much one good, well-natur'd deedExhilarates the mind!
Self-love should prompt each human heart
To study to be kind!
Remembrance on a little act
Will always smiling look,
Which, though 'twas useful and humane,
Small cost and labour took.
With lov'd Maria by his side,
As happy as a king,
See! chearful William smiling ride,
To taste the balmy spring.
Beside earl Tilney's park they rode,
Earl Tilney's, grand and gay!
When lo! within the pales they spy'd
A palmer, poor and gray!
Though aided by his oaken staff,
His feeble knees did bow:
Fatigue, and sad anxiety
Were painted on his brow!
Close by his side his aged dame
Sollicitously trod:
While, less concern'd, their little boy
Came tripping o'er the sod;
He, careless of the wilder'd way,
Which caus'd his parents' woe,
Whistled, and play'd with sportive Tray,
For Tray must with them go!
186
Discern'd approaching soon;
When strait he doff'd his rustic hat,
And strait he begg'd a boon:
“Wearied we are, and sore bested,
“In paths unknown we stray,
“For kindness, gentry, set us right,
“And guide us in the way:
“Bewilder'd in this park, we seek
“A passage out in vain;
“And ah! I faint: my feeble feet
“Will scarce my weight sustain!
“Full many a painful mile we've pass'd
“Since rose the morning sun!
“And my poor dame, as well as I,
“Is now almost fore-done.
“To Eastern-Ham our course we steer,
“A daughter lov'd to see;
“But where we are, which way to go—
“Who kens so ill as we!”
“Alas, old father, William cry'd,
“Indeed your course is wrong;
“And either way from out the park,
“You'll find the journey long!”
“Woe worth the day—what shall we do?
“Then sigh'd the ancient dame;
“For my poor husband's wearied quite,
“So long has he been lame!
“All winter last, in pain he liv'd,
“Nor work at all could he!
“Such fatal sorrow wrought us both
“His falling from a tree!”
187
—Full was her glistening eye;
“Can you not help these poor old folk?
“Do, think, my love, and try!”
“Comfort, said William, ancient pair,
“I comfort see in Time;
“Just by the topmost pales are broke,
“And o'er them you may climb!”
“Alas, for my old stiffen'd limbs,
“The aged man reply'd,
“They cannot bend, I cannot climb,
“And I am lame beside!”
Then from his horse did William leap,
As nimbly as a deer;
“Come to the pales, I'll help you o'er,
“Quoth he, good ancient pair!”
He took the old man in his arms,
And with much strength and might,
His helpless stiff limbs dragging drew
To t'other side outright.
The aged dame he also help'd,
Who smooth'd her coats, and o'er
Was likewise dragg'd full decently,
As was her spouse before.
He gave the little boy his hand,
The fence who lightly sprung:
Nor Tray, poor Tray, unaided left;—
Shall Tray be left, unsung!
Maria, with her wonted grace,
A welcome mite bestow'd;
And William, with minutest care,
Directed them the road.
188
To Ham direct their way,
With blessings loading their good friends,
Their friends as pleas'd as they.
| Poems | |