 | The Insolvent : or Filial Piety |  |
PROLOGUE. By the Late AARON HILL, Esq;
Poor
(at first op'ning) seems the plot we chuse:
But no felt indigence unfir'd the muse.
Insolvent pris'ner—bears no awful sound!
Yet—hope strong buildings—on that humble ground.
Debtor and creditor th'account begin:
But then comes joy—wife—mis'ry—death and sin!
While, from these varying lights, fierce fires we raise,
Lend but attention—and your tears shall praise.
But no felt indigence unfir'd the muse.
Insolvent pris'ner—bears no awful sound!
Yet—hope strong buildings—on that humble ground.
Debtor and creditor th'account begin:
But then comes joy—wife—mis'ry—death and sin!
While, from these varying lights, fierce fires we raise,
Lend but attention—and your tears shall praise.
Few are the public stains, that tinge the fame
Of this brave, rich, good-natur'd nation's name:
Yet, one there is—from time's long license, grown—
That blots out pity—and turns flesh, to stone.
Of this brave, rich, good-natur'd nation's name:
Yet, one there is—from time's long license, grown—
That blots out pity—and turns flesh, to stone.
'Tis—the deaf rage, that (where hard wants oppress)
Doubles th'insolvent suff'rer's dire distress.
Stung by this wasp, past friendships lose their weight;
Warp'd estimation wears a face like hate:
Suspended mercy bids affliction smart;
And, in a scale of flint, immures her heart.
Self—yet, unreach'd by woe—made proud, by gain,
Blind to disaster—and insulting pain;
In ease, short-sighted—hugs her lot, secure—
And marks no diff'rence—'twixt the base, and poor;
Flings from calamity, turns short on grief,
And, to the prison's grave, refers relief.
Doubles th'insolvent suff'rer's dire distress.
Stung by this wasp, past friendships lose their weight;
Warp'd estimation wears a face like hate:
Suspended mercy bids affliction smart;
And, in a scale of flint, immures her heart.
Self—yet, unreach'd by woe—made proud, by gain,
Blind to disaster—and insulting pain;
In ease, short-sighted—hugs her lot, secure—
And marks no diff'rence—'twixt the base, and poor;
Flings from calamity, turns short on grief,
And, to the prison's grave, refers relief.
So—for awhile—triumphantly severe!
Tow'rs the bid insult—and disdains to hear.
At last, comes disappointment home—Then, starts
Touch'd sense—and wonders at mens cruel hearts!
Then (self still upmost) the rous'd sleeper shakes;
And insolently hopes—compassion wakes!
But scorn close waits upon the scorner's heel;
And he, that shunn'd to hear—vouchsafes to feel.
Tow'rs the bid insult—and disdains to hear.
At last, comes disappointment home—Then, starts
Touch'd sense—and wonders at mens cruel hearts!
Then (self still upmost) the rous'd sleeper shakes;
And insolently hopes—compassion wakes!
But scorn close waits upon the scorner's heel;
And he, that shunn'd to hear—vouchsafes to feel.
Too late, he feels!—The Eye, that wakes for all,
Fore-doom'd his anguish—and enjoys his fall;
Points, to his trembling view, that wise man's school—
That god-given law—th'all-temp'ring golden rule:
Bids him thank bitterness, for due despair;
And, since he cou'd not pity, learn to bear.
Fore-doom'd his anguish—and enjoys his fall;
That god-given law—th'all-temp'ring golden rule:
Bids him thank bitterness, for due despair;
And, since he cou'd not pity, learn to bear.
From our last age's plays exemplar aim,
Present and past, we find too much the same:
Stern, unrelenting int'rest's partial will
Reign'd then resistless—and it reigns so still.
Present and past, we find too much the same:
Stern, unrelenting int'rest's partial will
Reign'd then resistless—and it reigns so still.
How happy were th'effect—cou'd miseries, here,
From pride's correction (mourn'd by pity's tear)
Teach the dry rock to melt, in pain-touch'd flow;
And ease th'unhoping crouds, that sigh, in woe!
From pride's correction (mourn'd by pity's tear)
Teach the dry rock to melt, in pain-touch'd flow;
And ease th'unhoping crouds, that sigh, in woe!
| The Insolvent : or Filial Piety | |