Classic Poem

IN BEHALF OF A WIDOW AND FOUR FATHERLESS CHILDREN .

Offspring of Isles, in whom Old Ocean prides
That rolls to you its wealth on all its tides,
That bears you hence, to every shore it greets,
And tells your triumphs where it wafts your fleets;
Still pleas'd returning, from your trackless ways,
Where home, dear home! its every charm displays;
Love, Hope, Affection, Joy, a blissful train,
Expecting, crowd the margin of the main:
You come — and here, awhile, the sails are furl'd,
That nurse a new Emporium for the world;
Where'er your anchor holds, your smile prevails,
The scenic canvass swells with prosperous gales:
Our ship is mann'd to greet our friend's return,
From seas of ice, or where the Indies burn:
Pleas'd from your toils, here gen'rous tars repair,
And softly whisper, " Lie-thee-to , " Old Care;
Here learn from us, the Moment's living whim,
And catch, from mimic glee, the wholesome grin;
While Satire's pointed pen records the day,
And marks its hobby ere it dies away.

We, too, have witness'd, to the feeling flow,
That streak'd your hardy cheeks from fancied woe,
When tragic victims, taught your hearts to feel,
As flow'd the liquid death, or gleam'd the steel,
And hopeless here, explor'd a world unknown,
Heav'd the last sigh — and sought a better home!
Alas! no scene, with Fiction's sorrows fraught,
Now asks attention or attracts a thought;
But Truth's unalter'd tale, the storms of life,
A Husband shipwreck'd, and a Widow'd Wife;
A Father lost, his little crew's support,
Who here, Hope led, may find a friendly port!
Ye, who with Life's calm sunshine now are blest,
Paint to yourselves the torture of her breast;
The pang Affliction's daughter now endures,
May yet (avert it Heaven) one day be your's;
And while you sympathise with deep distress,
Be your's that attribute of Heaven — to bless;
O! aid a daughter's duteous arm to save,
To prop a parent — bending to the grave;
Aid her, the storm with fortitude to bear,
To rear her orphans with a mother's care,
To chase Despondence from their future view,
And teach their infant lips — a prayer for you!
Attend, there breathes from every breast a sigh,
I see the hallow'd drop in every eye;
Benignant Pity's soothing powers prevail,
That longs the sorrows of her heart to heal!
Daughters of Britain, Nymphs on Mersey's wave,
As good and lovely as her sons are brave!
Ye feel, untaught, the anguish of a mother,
In you, heroic tars, she hails a brother:
Hark, hear the generous cry, " all hands on deck ,
To save a brother's orphans from the wreck! "