 | Women must weep |  |
THE PHARISEE.
Fair she was, and even penitential,
For he heard her feeble, piteous cry,
But a man of office consequential
Could not to it decently reply;
She had lost her fame, if not her beauty,
And was laid in shadow on the shelf,
And of course a Pharisee's first duty
Evidently must be to himself;
He could not deny her utter sadness,
And some twinges felt—if not for her,
But it would be pure Quixotic madness
To imperil his own character!
For he heard her feeble, piteous cry,
But a man of office consequential
Could not to it decently reply;
She had lost her fame, if not her beauty,
And was laid in shadow on the shelf,
And of course a Pharisee's first duty
Evidently must be to himself;
He could not deny her utter sadness,
And some twinges felt—if not for her,
But it would be pure Quixotic madness
To imperil his own character!
“God, I thank Thee, I am not as others,”
Said he, and forgot to bend the knee;
“Not as common people, or as brothers,
Who are scarce particular like me—
Not as dogs who are not sure of dinners,
Nor the flagrant swindlers on the mart;
Oh, I hate adultery in sinners,
Play'd on wine and women and fine art!
Thank Thee, I am not a vulgar varlet,
Without fortune, friends, or power and place,
Nor a Pariah, as this wretched harlot—
Who, however, has a pretty face.”
Said he, and forgot to bend the knee;
“Not as common people, or as brothers,
Who are scarce particular like me—
Not as dogs who are not sure of dinners,
Nor the flagrant swindlers on the mart;
Oh, I hate adultery in sinners,
Play'd on wine and women and fine art!
Thank Thee, I am not a vulgar varlet,
Without fortune, friends, or power and place,
Nor a Pariah, as this wretched harlot—
Who, however, has a pretty face.”
176
She was meanly drest, and social stigma
Lay upon her like a hideous curse,
And she starved, though that was an enigma
Solved not by the pauperizing purse;
What would persons think, if he whose merit
Was so obvious to the meanest mind,
Heir of sires whose name he did inherit,
If their graces had been left behind—
He should speak to such a waif and wastrel,
Who to proper airs had no pretence,—
He, with ages of repute ancestral,
And his own hard-won magnificence?
Lay upon her like a hideous curse,
And she starved, though that was an enigma
Solved not by the pauperizing purse;
What would persons think, if he whose merit
Was so obvious to the meanest mind,
Heir of sires whose name he did inherit,
If their graces had been left behind—
He should speak to such a waif and wastrel,
Who to proper airs had no pretence,—
He, with ages of repute ancestral,
And his own hard-won magnificence?
Nay, he owed it to the world of fashion,
To his country—it was all the same,
Not to give admittance to compassion,
Which might possibly lead him to shame;
If he helped her and he was detected,
Then on him would every door be slamm'd,
Better for him to remain respected,
And to let his sister be—yes, d—d;
Ah! he saw not, in his petty blindness,
Heard not the commandment full and free,—
“He that doeth smallest act of kindness
To the humblest, doeth it to Me.”
To his country—it was all the same,
Not to give admittance to compassion,
Which might possibly lead him to shame;
If he helped her and he was detected,
Then on him would every door be slamm'd,
Better for him to remain respected,
And to let his sister be—yes, d—d;
Ah! he saw not, in his petty blindness,
Heard not the commandment full and free,—
“He that doeth smallest act of kindness
To the humblest, doeth it to Me.”
| Women must weep | |