Classic Poem

Oh Thou! by nobler, wiser maxims taught,
Than e'er the sordid soul of Int'rest caught;
Oh thou! whose honour'd steps have learnt to tread
The lonely place, where Sorrow hides its head;
Whose lib'ral hand extends its pious care,
Even to the hapless victims of Despair!
Even where the Mother, trembling, cold, and pale
With artless rhet'ric tells her dismal tale:
(Her lovely offspring, faded in their bloom,
With looks of mild submission round the room)
While tyrant Industry, her hours must claim,
And e'en the mingling tear incurs its blame!
'Tis thine to view—to soothe her poignant care
For those dear objects she would cherish there.
Her patient truth, no curious sight shall see;
'Tis known to Heaven! which, oh! commission'd thee!

And Heaven, which marks it with approving eye,
Shall register thy deeds beyond the sky.—
O Shou'dst thou feel—for e'en the good and just,
Of base Ingratitude shall feel the thrust:
If lurking Treachery ere shou'd point the dart,
May E MMA'S name speak comfort to thy heart!

Immortal D IGBY !—spare the Muse's strain,
Admiring Virtue, in a world so vain!
Thy gen'rous zeal, with rapture she surveys,
And feels a treason in her feeble praise.
Honours shall fade, and pleasures shall decay,
And riches make them “wings to fly away;”
But thine to Heav'n shall take an eagle's flight,
And trace thy passage to the Realms of Light.