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diff --git a/32277-0.txt b/32277-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b19ec1f --- /dev/null +++ b/32277-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1395 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Characters from Life, by James Parkerson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Characters from Life + or Moral Hints. In Verse + + +Author: James Parkerson + + + +Release Date: May 6, 2010 [eBook #32277] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARACTERS FROM LIFE*** + + +Transcribed from the early 1800’s edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org. Many thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library, +UK, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was +made. + + [Picture: Photograph of this pamphlet] + + + + + + CHARACTERS FROM + LIFE; + + + OR, + + MORAL HINTS. + + _IN VERSE_. + + Viz. + +Admonitions to the Dissipated An address to a Man of the World +On Viewing the Cattle Market Serious Reflections +Lion and Orange Grove An address to Calista. +The Convict’s Farewell + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + BY J. PARKERSON, JUN. + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + WALKER, PRINTER, NEAR THE DUKE’S PALACE. + + + + +ADMONITIONS +TO THE +DISSIPATED. + + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + Excess to mankind oft’times brings, + Remorse with all its bitter stings; + When cares oppress us in this life. + At times we drink to banish strife; + But when its feeble aid is o’er, + We are more wretched then before. + Oft poverty the man disgrace, + And shows a drunkard in his face; + Suppose he is a man of wealth, + Excess of liquor injures health; + Not only health but sad to name, + Such characters the sober blame. + The artful villain tries his skill, + When Bacchus gains us to his will; + At such unguarded times disclose, + What makes our valued friends our foes; + And many an injured wife declares + That Bacchus cause her many tears. + The husband oft to harlots stray, + Whene’er he bears a sovereign’s sway; + And by his aid the thoughtless youth, + Is led from virtues paths and truth: + Oh gentle youth the harlot’s smile, + Is given only to beguile; + Their conversation so impure, + That men of sense them can’t endure; + Be chaste in every thought I pray, + Sweet modesty will gain the day; + Bacchus with her can not contend, + She is to every youth a friend. + Oft do I see a good man’s son, + By harlots ruined and undone; + A tipling farmer oft complain, + Much is too low the price of grain; + He must acknowledge oft he meet, + His wealthy landlord in the street; + On Saturdays his landlord roam, + A few miles from his gaudy home; + To this tho’ ancient pretty city, + To see a play denoted pretty: + Oft in the boxes folks call green, + The tenant with his wife is seen; + His spending money in that way, + Good sense and learning then display; + When farmers hurt themselves is clear, + Is riding home and drunk appear. + Driving their horses at a rate, + As plain foretell they staid too late; + The gig turn’d o’er an arm is broke, + Don’t this his landlord much provoke. + Some neighbour who may want his farm, + Take care the village to alarm; + Informs his neighbours he can’t pay + His tithe till sold both corn and hay; + And to his landlord slyly state, + That ruin’d soon must be his fate; + His neighbour was in liquor found, + Senseless and bleeding on the ground; + On going home he drove so fast, + As if each minute was his last; + He’d broke his gig and spoilt his mare, + This Sir is true I do declare; + What I now state to others name, + And they will tell you just the same; + Sir cried the landlord in a pat, + He knows not what he would be at; + Quickly his mind I will alarm, + For I will turn him out his farm; + To me he’s tenant but at will, + Soon soon he’ll be on Castle-Hill; + I instant will the sot distress, + And others will him sharply press; + Sir cries his neighbour should that be, + I hope you’ll give me liberty; + To offer you a great deal more, + Then ere you let his farm before; + I have two bondsmen at my call, + One lives you know at such a hall; + The other friend is Banker Steady, + They both to serve me Sir are ready! + Sir cries the landlord you keep sober, + And only drink your own October; + I’ll promise what you’ve ask’d of me, + And you my tenant soon shall be; + I’ll send the bailiffs on his place, + And that will bring him to disgrace; + The slanderer says pray sir don’t state, + What I to you this day relate; + No says the landlord, I’ll not say, + What you have told me on this day; + This slanderer I do know well, + And only do the truth now tell; + Most farmers whose estates are large, + Their public duty well discharge; + They live on such a handsome plan, + As note and mark them gentlemen; + I do protest it is great pity, + Some drink so hard when in this city; + As when rattling o’er the stones, + They break a poor old woman’s bones; + Or by his trotting horse knock’d down, + Before he leaves a market town; + I do but state what many view, + And Norwich surgeons know its true. + Good farmers I do much esteem, + And therefore make them oft my theme; + May every farmer when he dine, + Have means to drink a pint of wine. + + + + +ON VIEWING THE +CATTLE MARKET +ON THE +CASTLE HILL. + + + The wealthy farmer with a rosy hue, + Weekly attends the hardy scot to view; + The pretty homebred soon his eye detain, + Views and admires, then chat in lively strain; + Of natures produce till his business call + Him from such pleasing sights to pace the hall; + Soon as he sees his merchant at his stand, + He shows the produce of his fertile land; + I’ll give you such a price the merchant say, + A higher bidder you’ll not find this day. + But ere the farmer quits the hill he view, + All other stock to find out something new; + A thought then strikes him as the season’s fine, + I’ll buy a few score sheep before I dine; + Into the pens he hies, the bargain struck, + The jobber takes his cash, wish him good luck. + Prehaps his steed don’t travel to his mind, + Looks at the nags, and do a good one find; + The price he thinks too high, but not refrain, + Making another bid the horse to gain; + The dealer tempted by the offer say, + Sir I’ll comply don’t hurry so away; + Lets take a glass of wine to wish success + To your new purchase—hard the farmer press, + The nag is taken from the stand with glee; + Another takes his place with broken knee, + The buyer says what have you standing here? + A damaged one a tumbling one I fear; + Sir cries the dealer as your land is light, + Take him for plough he’s pretty to the sight; + No it can’t be, you must be in a joke, + Sure I can’t see, or else his knees are broke; + But Sir the price I ask will claim a bid, + I have so many that I want to rid; + Ten guineas for him Sir to you I’ll take, + A useful one to you I’m sure he’ll make: + The farmer cries before I quit the ground, + I’ll make an offer which is Sir ten pound; + It is accepted—and away goes nag, + The wealthy farmer draws the canvas bag. + Now to the tavern blithsome they repair, + Take wine and wish that liquor wan’t so dear; + Looks at his watch, then loud the buyer cry, + Its half past one, I to the hall must hie! + Sell as much corn as shall be in my power, + I’m much afraid the markets will be lower. + I’ve sold he cried my wheat and barley well, + I wish I could my oats and horse beans sell; + Straight to his merchant ’gain the farmer hop, + Fearful next market day all things will drop; + The cautious merchant on his skill rely, + And thinks Mark-Lane will have a small supply; + Contrary winds will keep the vessels back, + And in his purchase he will not be slack. + Only one thought now harass much his brain, + He fears to Banker’s shop to go again; + Least he should meet rebuke and irksome scorn, + On casting up he found he’d overdrawn + A running mortgage please the banker’s mind, + Gains it and to the merchant is more kind; + But disappointment all his efforts blast, + A large supply is usher’d in at last; + Mark-Lane is full and markets now decline, + A large supply and weather very fine; + The malsters leaving off they’ll wet no more, + And only clear what is upon the floor; + Merchants there are now dwelling in this place, + That often routs their handsome houses grace; + Gigs very fine a livery servant too, + Is always kept to hide what’s known by few; + That his expences far exceeds his gain, + And that the banker mortgages retain; + On each estate the gaudy thing has bought, + And that in real wealth not worth a groat. + Still he goes on till on a sudden stray, + Away awhile and cant the farmer pay; + Flies to his factor in the time of need, + For an advance but do not there succeed. + Some characters like those I do know well, + They can’t last long they cut so great a swell; + Oft do we see a very handsome coach, + A merchant sport, and meriting reproach; + Because full well he knows his books must show, + His ranting on has brought him very low; + When that’s the case too often others find, + A gig or coach is kept the eye to blind; + To every honest man I wish success, + And may misfortune never on them press. + + + + +THE LION +AND THE +_ORANGE GROVE_. + + + Three Jackalls were a prawling sent + It is supposed with ill intent, + At least to make a prey: + On any thing they saw was good; + So dashing furious in a wood, + They seiz’d without delay, + + An Orange Tree well hung with fruit, + It apt the Lion’s taste to suit, + By Jackalls forced away. + The owner of the tree declares, + He’ll strip the Lion of his ears, + Or make him sharply pay. + + So to it furiously they went, + He’ll make the Lion soon repent, + For seizing others store. + He crav’d for mercy night and day; + The Owner of the fruit won’t stay! + But will him sadly gore. + + Sharp pains ran down his aching side, + The Lion on his knees loud cried, + I will do so no more. + The orange man declar’d with glee, + Your minion sha’nt have liberty + To enter here no more. + + Ne’er shall you have the power to take + My fruit away for hunger sake, + But I will have a change; + My tale of woe none can deny, + You know your master dwells on high, + He soon will stop your range. + + He wears a fur more grand to view, + And is more merciful than you, + Your arrogance he’ll stop; + He’ll quickly with a little chain, + Your nightly prowlings soon restrain; + And your ambition lop. + + He was allowed no more to stray, + With hungry Jackalls night or day; + Where Orange trees are seen. + It serv’d him right to stop his power, + Or he would each succeeding hour, + Pluck Oranges too green. + + Besides there is a law that’s known, + We should take nothing but our own, + From either beast or man. + Tho’ power is given to us here, + We should the little lambs revere, + And serve them if we can. + + I hope this will a warning prove, + To other Lions in the grove, + Who may hereafter stray: + By power or order to a place, + And not incur the like disgrace, + We witness’d t’other day. + + The low bred minions seek to bind, + The smaller ones of gentler kind, + But in this happy Isle; + A savage beast is laid aside, + For every Reptile to deride, + Or hourly to revile. + + + + +THE CONVICT’S FAREWELL. + + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + Farewell ye partner of my woes, farewell! + The finest language could but faintly tell, + What I now feel in writing this adieu, + What you must suffer when I’m far from you. + There was a time when happiness my lot, + I liv’d serenely in my little cot; + No wicked thoughts did then disturb my rest, + My children round me, by a father prest; + No father now, methinks I hear them say, + He’s gone from us, he’s hurried far away. + Nightly I’ve view’d them in my flurri’d dreams, + Seen their wet eyes and heard their dreadful screams; + Methought my wife came to my lonely cell, + To say adieu, to bid a long farewell; + Soon I awoke and to increase my pains, + I felt my legs encompass’d round with chains; + Then, then I cried oh drunkenness thou cause, + Of this distress, and made me break those laws + That wise men made for every man to keep, + By them deluded, plung’d in crimes so deep. + First step to ruin was a love of dice, + With cards the great promoter of our vice; + I wish those men who do with such things play, + Would ever cast them from their hands away; + I wish all Magistrates would search around, + And punish Publicans where they are found: + They caused me first my Master to neglect, + And after lost me honest men’s respect; + They also led me from a virtuous wife, + And mostly caused me sad disgrace and strife. + View Public Houses, every wealthy Squire, + And force by ten, the spendthrift to retire; + By such a plan, the labouring poor would rise, + Soon as the Sun adorns the heavenly skies: + I’ve stated what have brought me to this end, + And what has lost me every earthly friend; + Except a wife—oh God protect and bless, + Her and our offspring now in great distress. + Young men be cautious how ye spend your time, + A bad acquaintance hurries on a crime; + Sometimes an artful female tries her power, + To trap the giddy in a thoughtless hour; + When she has work’d the captive to her will, + She gladly sees you taking sorrow’s pill; + Cause you to leave a virtuous homely wife, + And lead a sad disgraceful wicked life; + Allur’d by art she’ll bring you to distress, + And like a Millwood to you falsely press; + Then be the first your actions to betray, + A fiend like such caused me to go astray + From them I love, from those my heart hold dear, + And shall till death their memories revere; + When I am clos’d in transport on the sea, + Doubtless my love you’ll sometimes sigh for me. + Bring up my little ones in such a way, + As they will holy keep the sabbath-day; + Early in life do in their minds reveal, + The dreadful crimes to swear, to lie, or steal. + Hannah my eldest daughter place her where, + She’s constant under virtue’s eye and care; + Let her not learn the weaving trade, you’ll find, + That such a course may injure much her mind; + Females are ready to acquire that art, + Soon as they wish fair virtue to depart; + Unwilling oft in service for to be, + Where they can’t dress and have their liberty; + But if with parents they can work at home, + Nightly they hope with idle folks to roam: + At my late sentence I can not complain, + Altho’ the law my body do detain; + Justice tho’ slow has overtaken me, + Abroad for life, I shall be kept from thee; + On a just God for ever I will trust, + I know his will is always right and just. + Tis now too late again to speak to you, + Which is the cause of writing this adieu. + No partner now to sooth my aching heart, + Reflection galls me, at myself I start, + With aching heart and in my lonely cell, + I bid my babes and you—a long farewell. + Methinks I see the transport full in view, + And I with horror meet the harden’d crew; + Full well I know I ne’er shall see you more, + Nor plant a foot-step on my native shore; + On foreign land I’m doom’d my days to toil, + And with vile wretches cultivate the soil. + Stripes I must bear perhaps when quite unwell, + And hear the convicts’ melancholy yell; + A pang I feel when e’er I close the night, + And wish a virtuous wife was in my sight: + England adieu, may you in trade increase, + And free from inward tumults rest in peace. + Our chaplain well I know, will soon impart, + His friendly aid to cheer the drooping heart; + I hope my children he will learn to read, + And teach them early to peruse the creed: + The bell is rung, the waggon is in view, + Wife and dear children now, adieu! adieu! + At thoughts of leaving this my native shore, + Unmans me quite and I can say no more; + I will thro’ life, a better course pursue, + Tho’ far away still leave my heart with you. + + + + +_ADVICE_, &c. + + + Vile man, abstain from every artful plan, + When found out disgrace the name of man; + Let those who steal, repent and sin no more, + Ere Law decrees, it’s vengeance on them pour; + From trifling things, we greater ills pursue, + Till the Law’s fangs are brought within our view; + Stop, stop bad courses, ere it be too late, + And justice dooms you to a culprit’s fate. + Riots avoid, tho’ mischief none you do, + Your being at them, brings a stain on you; + Those who look on, will afterwards repent, + And share alike in point of punishment: + The Law expressly properly declare, + He adds to tumult, that is present there; + Take my advice, let reason bear her sway, + From scenes of discord, always keep away; + You’d think it hard, a worthless savage crew, + Should gain by plunder, all your goods from you: + The worst of men are foremost on a plan, + To gain by rapine every way they can; + Do you suppose, that wasting others store, + Can ease the hardships of the labouring poor; + No such a course, our present ills increase, + And robs the Nation of its inward peace. + From late example, all are taught to know, + Dreadful his fate, that strikes confusion’s blow; + Then let us quiet at our cots remain, + And better times will cheer us once again. + All means are trying comforts to restore, + To ease the hardships of the labouring poor; + Think what distress awaits dishonest ways, + Immured in prison many wretched days; + Not only days, perhaps they shed their tears, + In Foreign Lands for many dismal years; + Not only years perhaps are doom’d for life, + Abroad to roam, from children, home and wife: + Should it your lot in prison for to be, + Implore with fervent prayer the Deity; + Who will in time if you sincerely pray, + Lessen your troubles each succeeding day: + It’s thro’ our Saviour’s aid that we should crave, + A gracious pardon ere we meet the grave; + His intercession with the King of Kings, + Alone can save you from eternal stings. + When at the court, for trial you appear, + Speak nought but truth, you better for it fare; + For should you dare to introduce a lie, + Justice’s sharp eye each falsehood will descry: + I’ve known a perjur’d witness brought to swear, + The guilty felon, of his crime is clear: + Dismay’d, confus’d, he feels alas! too late, + Such impious conduct greatly aggravate; + Besides he answers at the awful day, + For causing others from the truth to stray. + Whatever happens in this vale of tears, + Our Maker knows, give him your fervent prayers: + Let your demeanor if in prison be, + Such as the jailor can contrition see; + For his report may mitigate your doom, + And sometimes save you from a prison’s gloom. + Religious Books if you can read attend, + They are in solitude the pris’ner’s friend; + When at the Chapel, do not cast away, + By inattention what the Chaplain say: + It’s pure Religion cheers each good man’s heart, + And will in time its blessings soon impart; + Such as perhaps you never knew before, + And doubtless will your peace of mind restore. + The Bible read when in your dismal cell, + Read it attentive, ere you bid farewell; + To him who may companion with you be; + Your soul that night may be required of thee. + A scene I witnessed, and not long time since, + Would stop the errors of an hardened prince; + Three men were sentenc’d by the law to die, + To hear them mourn, to see the drooping eye; + Would cause sensations of a painful kind, + While anxious cares oppress the tortur’d mind. + A pious Chaplain strove, to bring in view, + The proffer’d pardon if repentants true. + He said that God was merciful and just, + To implore forgiveness, on his word to trust; + There is a record where the scripture say, + Those that repent he will not cast away; + A sigh or tear cannot that boon impart, + It must be fervent from the head and heart: + Thro’ Jesus’ aid vile sinners doth he save, + If true repentants, ere they meet the grave. + Each wish’d they could recal, the time that’s past, + And they would live as if each day the last: + Just before death, they pray’d me to implore, + An erring mortal to transgress no more; + Hope their lov’d Chaplain might for ever be + When call’d on high, blessed to eternity; + They knew his worth his heart is of a kind, + That plants soft pity to a feeling mind; + Deeker as Chaplain, few can e’er excel, + Belov’d by all who bid the jail farewell. + When first I saw these wretched men in jail, + Before their trial did their fate bewail; + Soon as the sentence met each anxious ear, + Resign’d and true repentants did appear; + One and all cried out, oh that God how just! + To stop our sad career, on thee we’ll trust; + One cause alone have made this sad distress, + Neglecting Lord’s day and our drunkenness. + + + + +AN ADDRESS +_TO A MAN OF THE WORLD_. + + + Reflect ere death, call you away, + To answer at the awful day; + Your thousands cannot purchase life, + But as you waste it cause you strife. + Many a pang you’ve felt of late, + I must pronounce you vile ingrate; + By art you gain a Lady’s smile, + Soon as acquired would her beguile; + Careless the pangs a husband feel, + To you I make this sad appeal; + Was you a married man what pain, + Was e’er a faithless friend to gain. + Your wife’s affection from your view, + And bid each moral plan adieu; + This truth to you I’m sure is known, + Then scan such case as if your own: + Juries are often kind its true, + I’m sure they have been so to you. + There is a judge that dwells on high, + Will all the arts of man descry: + Admit you didn’t your game obtain, + Did you from wicked thoughts abstain? + While ranging o’er the shady grove, + Doubtless you thought of nought but love; + The prying eye of searching man, + Foil’d in its bud your artful plan. + The education of this age, + Makes fit the wanton to engage; + On lavities unblushing plan, + With many a vile unthinking man. + Wealth may a short time foibles blind, + But, does it ease the guilty mind? + The adultress with her paramour + Ought personally sharp pains endure. + Send them afar to foreign land, + Let each be branded on the hand; + There’s scarce a crime on earth more vile, + Then artless women to beguile. + The wretch that’s guilty of that sin, + On females does great anguish bring, + Levity too often leads astray, + The lovely female that is gay. + A love of dress too often cause, + Women to break the marriage laws; + And pity ’tis I do declare, + Many so gaudy should appear: + Soon as distress awaits the fair, + Madam is clad in deep despair; + Her sorrow is of selfish kind, + Not gaining things quite to her mind. + Her mind is fixed soon to impart, + The fondest darling of her heart, + To the first artful man she see, + A strong desire for liberty. + This from her home without delay, + To taste the pleasures of the day; + Now had the husband taught his wife, + Economy throughout his life + More easy she’d have kept at home, + But he allowed her oft to roam; + To plays and balls and such like places, + Where giddy wantons show their faces. + Actions are brought large damages to gain, + Which must give every thinking bosom pain; + Some trifling want of proper evidence, + May give a british jury just pretence, + To give acquittal, then the parties smile, + To think how much the public they beguile. + Still keen remorse embitters every joy, + Altho’ the parties can by bribes decoy: + Such hirelings as their influence can bind, + And clap a padlock on the tongue and mind. + + * * * * * + + + + +SERIOUS REFLECTIONS. + + + My life is embittered with cares, + The reason to me is quite plain; + I have caused many sighs and sad tears, + To her I shall ne’er see again. + + She is fled from my presence above, + I shortened her days in this life; + To share true angelical love, + She is free’d from all pain care and stife. + + How could I the dictates disdain, + Of a parent so kind and so just; + Or give her sweet bosom such pain, + She is happy, I hope and I trust. + + That God who is setting on high, + Have planted remorse in my heart; + Its pangs I shall feel till I die, + May I then from my troubles depart. + + Repent oft she cried ere too late, + To her precepts I did not attend; + My consience pronounce me ingrate, + To disdain such advice from a friend. + + Such a friend I shall ne’er more attain. + To me she was always sincere; + I hope I shall meet her again. + When I’m summoned on high to appear + + May repentance atone for the past, + And cleanse me from every stain; + May the tears of sincerity last, + That my parent I do meet again. + + Sometimes I revisit the spot, + Where my parent was used for to dwell; + I sigh when I enter the cot, + Where I bade the lov’d object farewell, + + Ere death had releaved her from pain, + I pray’d that her son she’d forgive; + She implor’d me from vice to abstain, + And in future more pious to live. + + Scarce had I her blessing received, + And had faintly sigh’d out an adieu; + When I found her from troubles reliev’d, + While mine where arising anew. + + Emotion of grief tears my heart, + More painful then e’er felt before; + When compell’d from her tomb to depart, + Her loss I shall daily deplore. + + * * * * * + + + + +AN ADDRESS +_TO CALISTA_, +Taken from life. + + + Calista, tho’ you waft a smile, + And blithsome still appear; + It does not censure ought beguile, + Or stop the stifled tear. + + Its levity your conduct sway, + And tarnish much your name; + Too much her dictates you obey, + The prudent must you blame. + + A married woman never can, + Meet in a secret place; + An artful gay and single man, + And not incur disgrace. + + Censure you long have borne it’s true, + At that you can’t complain; + That fiend will harass you anew, + If you transgress again. + + Ne’er listen to each tale of love, + The Siren fain would tell; + Chaste to your husband ever prove, + Lothario bid farewell. + + Tho’ guilt is vanished from the eye, + Of mortals here below; + A God above can all descry, + Our secret thoughts he know. + + Sometimes the guilty are set free, + And wears no more the chains; + Yet tho’ he gains his liberty, + The stain on him remains. + + Tho’ rich the female that portray, + A wanton’s smile to view; + Or cast her husband’s love away, + Bid chastity adieu. + + It is the duty of a wife, + Whene’er the ring she gain; + To lead a virtuous steady life, + From wanton acts refrain. + + Calista oft you did retire, + To an appointed place; + To hold a converse with the squire, + It brought on you disgrace. + + + + +A Dierge to +THE MEMORY OF +PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. + + + Britons wept when they heard brave Nelson was wounded, + Cried aloud when they knew that a ball pierced his heart; + Yet it eas’d our distress to find him surrounded, + By those friends he loved, when compell’d to depart. + + He requested to know the fate of the battle, + If t’was likely that England would conquor that day; + When they answer’d him Sir, by the weight of our metal, + More colours are struck and the reat in dismay. + + Now Britons again feel a painful sensation, + For the loss of a Princess, beloved by us all; + There ne’er was a Lady fill’d better her station; + Yet Grim Death with his mandate alike strikes the ball. + + Neither Princes, or Kings, can induce him to tarry, + Away from the object he’s order’d to strike; + To the aged, or young, to the giddy, or merry. + He darts out his arrows and wounds them alike. + + Scarce had Providence made our lov’d Princess a mother, + When God thought it fit to call her above, + To taste of those joys rolling time cannot smother, + And share of those blessings that flows from his love, + + To protect and to cherish the aged and helpless, + Her purse would be drawn, and its comforts expend; + When any misfortune were known for to hard press, + She’d find out the object and would them befriend. + + Well may Brittons mourn, for tho’ in high station, + To enliven fair Commerce was always her care, + Her loss will be felt a long time by the Nation; + And sincere is the tear that is shed o’er her Bier. + + Her donations were such as noted the sorrow, + She felt for the poor that were heard in distress; + And used for to say, I’ll assist them to morrow, + And try all my aid many cares to make less. + + To England she’s left an example for others, + Which I hope will be copied till time is no more; + May all foreign nations, regard us as brothers, + And a free commerce gladden old Albion’s Shore. + + + + +_TO THE MEMORY_ +OF AN +AFFECTIONATE PARENT. + + + My pen can not describe or tears convey, + The pains I felt when late I bade farewell; + I view’d in death’s embrace a parent lay, + And heard the passing of the mournful bell. + + Nine Month’s disease its ravages had made. + E’er death reliev’d her from all sufferings here; + I saw the Sexton with his Iron spade, + Mark out the spot, and place the gloomy bier. + + Affecting scene! while recollection last, + I’ll trace the parting of our sad adieu; + Dwell on those scenes that are for ever past, + Tho’ in my mind it troubles fresh renew + + Just before death had wield the fatel blow, + That stops the power of utterance or sigh; + She with a voice angelic soft and low, + Cried, Lord! forgive me e’er my spirit fly. + + Oft have I seen my virtuous parent stray, + O’er her lov’d garden pensive and forlorn; + To cull the flowers each succeeding day, + And view the beauties of a summer’s morn. + + Scarce did a flower adorn the spot around, + But her hand planted in its proper place; + No fonder lover of those sweets were found, + While she their beauties in her mind could trace. + + Three days before her sufferings were o’er, + She craved assistance to her favourite spot; + And said my roses I shall see no more, + And when I’m absent they will be forgot. + + But for her sake a faithful servant toil, + To free the flowers from weeds from morn till night; + Or bring fresh water to the thirsty soil, + To that lov’d spot that gave her oft delight. + + Anticipation to the panting heart, + Convey’d the dread decree of fate’s ordain; + To say she must from earthly scenes depart, + And not to them for ever turn again. + + Meekness thro’ life had marked her for her care, + While resignation claim’d her for her own; + Sometimes her mind wou’d cheerful still appear, + And strive to stifle pain’s afflicting groan. + + Oh God! she cried, thy mercy let me crave, + Till life’s short span is taken quite away; + Then may I rest at peace within the grave, + To wait thy summons for the awful day. + + Scarce had religion brought sweet hope to aid + The virtuous victim in the pangs of death; + When soft a guardian angel gently said, + You’ll dwell with me when time extinguish breath. + + A few short struggles and the scene was o’er, + Death with his victim flew above the skies; + I shall thro’ life her absence oft deplore, + Till recollection from my memory flies. + + The humble cottagers their Mistress bore, + To her cold home each face bedew’d with tears; + She to her mansion to return no more, + For death has silenc’d all her hopes and fears. + + Oh! had you seen my good and worthy sire, + In sorrow’s garment his last duty pay; + To her whose virtues did esteem acquire, + Or ease the troubles of a luckless day. + + Two sorrowing sons increas’d the gloomy day. + Who will while life remain her loss deplore; + Till recollection from them fade away, + Or erring Mortals here do sin no more. + + Each little Mourner drop’d affection’s tear, + When dust on dust the coffin hid from view; + Their youthful sighs denoted their despair, + When they to Grandma’ bid a long adieu. + + * * * * * + + + + +_ALBERT TO HANNAH_. + + + I’ve read your letter o’er and o’er again, + Happy to find you faithful do remain, + Besides forgiveness; though too much I fear, + I long have made you victim to despair. + You say two years with fervency I strove + To keep affection, constancy, and love; + But soon as crosses came upon my mind, + Was careless of you and appear’d unkind. + I know my home was neat serene and nice; + But, ah! that home I lost, allured by vice. + Soon as you fled, a different scene in view, + Gone all attention soon as I lost you. + The quick retort was always in my ears, + You’ve drown’d a virtuous wife in sorrow’s tears. + Soon as I found all hopes to meet you fled, + I pray’d I might be numbered with the dead: + Oblivion’s aid I oft invoked by drink, + I could not meditate nor dared to think. + You say it cost you tears to write to me, + But they’ll disperse when you a convert see. + Long I’ve invok’d a pardon from above, + To make me worthy of the wife I love: + Return, and till my days are at an end, + I’ll prove protector, guardian, and a friend. + The converse delicate; the smile sincere, + Will check the sigh, and stop the rising tear; + Cheerful as formerly we’ll pass our life, + A happy husband I, and you the wife. + + * * * * * + + + + +ON THE DEATH +OF +LORD NELSON. + + + The fleet of haughty France and Spain, + No more will triumph on the main, + Though Nelson is no more: + Our hero’s blood was dearly bought; + To conquer them he bravely fought, + And died in vict’ry’s arms. + + ‘We’ll avenge his death,’ the seamen cry, + ‘We’ll fight, we’ll conquer, or we’ll die, + And will their force deride: + Our little ones shall lisp his name, + And to acquire a Nelson’s fame, + Will ever be their pride.’ + + Before cold death had closed his eyes, + Cover’d with wounds, the hero cries, + ‘Is victory our own?’ + ‘We’ve conquer’d,’ cried the valiant crew, + He smiling bade them all adieu, + And died without a groan. + + Yet, e’er he died, he did require, + How many ships were then on fire, + And others that had struck: + Well pleased the hero then was seen, + When told the number was fifteen; + For England was his care. + + Then with a bright benignant smile, + Imploring blessings on our Isle, + Bade Collingwood adieu; + Oh, gracious God! my soul receive, + From troubles England quick relieve, + And peace again renew. + + Oh death! thy keen unwelcome blow, + Laid England’s darling bleeding low, + The hour he gain’d the day; + Soon as thy hand had clos’d his eyes, + A beauteous angel from the skies; + Flew with his soul away. + + To taste sweet joys beyond the grave, + That are allotted for the brave, + Who fall in victory’s arms: + Many a tar we hope to find, + Will prove he has the hero’s mind, + When signals raise alarms + + WALKER, PRINTER, NEAR THE DUKE’S PALACE + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARACTERS FROM LIFE*** + + +******* This file should be named 32277-0.txt or 32277-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/2/2/7/32277 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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