Scripscrapologia or, Collins's Doggerel Dish Of All Sorts. Consisting of Songs Adapted to familiar Tunes, And which may be sung without the Chaunterpipe of an Italian Warbler, or the ravishing Accompaniments of Tweedle-Dum or Tweedle-Dee. Particularly those which have been most applauded in the author's once popular performance, call'd, The Brush. The Gallimaufry garnished with a variety of comic tales, quaint epigrams, whimsical epitaphs, &c. &c. [by John Collins] |
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COMFORT FOR THE POOR, IN THE WORST OF TIMES.— A Song. |
 | Scripscrapologia |  |
COMFORT FOR THE POOR, IN THE WORST OF TIMES.— A Song.
O blest is he who works and sings,
Contented through the day;
Nor levels envy's pois'nous stings,
At those who rest or play.
The plough he guides or wields the flail,
With heart alert and blythe;
The anvil beats, drives on the nail,
Or whets the mower's scythe.
Contented through the day;
Nor levels envy's pois'nous stings,
At those who rest or play.
The plough he guides or wields the flail,
With heart alert and blythe;
The anvil beats, drives on the nail,
Or whets the mower's scythe.
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Or when the streets with rubbish teem,
The broom he'll not beshrew;
But smile at those, who shameful deem
The toil, to clean a shoe;
For he, whose hope and peace doth rest
On Virtue's base alone,
A treasure hoards within his breast,
To Mammon's tribe unknown.
The broom he'll not beshrew;
But smile at those, who shameful deem
The toil, to clean a shoe;
For he, whose hope and peace doth rest
On Virtue's base alone,
A treasure hoards within his breast,
To Mammon's tribe unknown.
Thus in blind Fortune's whiffling round,
While ups and downs appear,
The Peasant, while he plods the ground,
May shame the loftiest Peer;
For pearls and diamonds, lands and mines,
Though pomp and pride may boast,
More bright that gem interior shines,
Than all on India's coast.
While ups and downs appear,
The Peasant, while he plods the ground,
May shame the loftiest Peer;
For pearls and diamonds, lands and mines,
Though pomp and pride may boast,
More bright that gem interior shines,
Than all on India's coast.
Tis That which cheers the drooping heart,
In times replete with woe,
And helps the pilgrim through his part,
Howe'er despis'd and low;
Tis want of That which bars the High
From blest Contentment's door;
And makes the Rich despondent sigh
For what sustains the Poor.
In times replete with woe,
And helps the pilgrim through his part,
Howe'er despis'd and low;
Tis want of That which bars the High
From blest Contentment's door;
And makes the Rich despondent sigh
For what sustains the Poor.
Tis That which blunts afflictions sting,
When wealth and friends are flown,
And makes the doitless pauper sing,
While Lords of thousands groan;
Nay, he must own that wears a Crown,
While others tug the oar,
“Fate may to mis'ry kings bend down,
And slaves to bliss may soar!”
When wealth and friends are flown,
And makes the doitless pauper sing,
While Lords of thousands groan;
Nay, he must own that wears a Crown,
While others tug the oar,
“Fate may to mis'ry kings bend down,
And slaves to bliss may soar!”
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Then wouldst thou make of life the most,
That mortal's lot can yield,
Be Virtue 'gainst misfortune's host,
Thy breastplate, sword, and shield;
Since death with due desert will crown
The sultan and the slave,
When all distinctions are thrown down,
And level'd in the grave!
That mortal's lot can yield,
Be Virtue 'gainst misfortune's host,
Thy breastplate, sword, and shield;
Since death with due desert will crown
The sultan and the slave,
When all distinctions are thrown down,
And level'd in the grave!
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