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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33456-0.txt b/33456-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49b5929 --- /dev/null +++ b/33456-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1148 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, An Address to a Wealthy Libertine, 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: An Address to a Wealthy Libertine + or, the Melancholy Effects of Seduction; with a Letter from an + Unfortunate Farmer's Daughter, to her Parents in Norfolk + + +Author: James Parkerson + + + +Release Date: August 17, 2010 [eBook #33456] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ADDRESS TO A WEALTHY +LIBERTINE*** + + +Transcribed from the early 1800’s edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org. + + + + + + AN ADDRESS + TO A + _WEALTHY LIBERTINE_; + OR, THE + Melancholy Effects + OF + SEDUCTION; + WITH A + LETTER + FROM AN UNFORTUNATE + Farmer’s Daughter, + TO HER + _PARENTS IN NORFOLK_. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + _PRICE SIX-PENCE_. + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + SOLD + By J. PARKERSON, JUN. + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + [Picture: Divider] + + Walker, Printer, near the Duke’s Palace, Norwich. + + + + +An Address, &c. + + + Believe me, Sir; I do these lines impart + With every pang that can corrode the heart; + Bring to your mind a dismal scene late past, + And let that guilty Amour be your last. + Think of my friend that was of late so gay, + By your vile arts dishonour’d and away; + From every joy that animates this life, + The tender mother and the happy wife. + A husband’s frowns, a father’s burning tears, + For Stella’s folly much increase their cares. + A brother mourns, in solitude forlorn, + To hear his Stella meet reproof and scorn: + In tears he cries, my sister’s late disgrace + Will plant a stigma on the female race. + Those friends so late that used to Stella stray, + Now bend their courses far another way. + She mourns in privacy her honour flown, + And sighs to find illicit scenes are known. + These sorrowing truths I feelingly renew, + And know, oh guilty man! they rise from you. + Can all your wealth lost honour ever gain? + That, Sir, is scorn’d—it is the impious stain + You’ve brought on Stella, to the end of life, + And robs her all the comforts of a wife. + Abandon’d man you must atone for all, + Ere life is o’er on God for mercy call. + Your mind is harass’d by reflection’s gale, + That oft to you its bitterness exhale: + Tempted by folly every scene pursue, + That dissipation can expose to view. + The softer pleasures that enrich the mind, + That learning dictates, from you lag behind; + Its cruel sport that bears a sov’reign sway, + To them and such like them you waste the day. + Know, Sir, that wealth an’t given to us here, + To bring to infamy the British fair. + Too much, I fear, you wanton hours employ, + The needy woman daily to decoy. + Too many wantons now disgrace this Isle, + Whose bad example off the young beguile; + I hope that plans to stop them will increase, + And her that now is wretched rest in peace. + Your gen’rous family will ever gain, + Affection’s tribute while we life retain: + Pure is the vine, except a leaf or two, + Soon they’ll decay and be no more in view. + Disgrac’d, disown’d, to foreign lands they’ll fly, + The censur’d objects of the Deity. + Wealth cannot stop the torrent of reproach, + Tho’ screen’d from Britons by a gaudy coach; + Its inmate oft tho’ clad in rich array, + Meets hoots and hisses as he rides away; + Till spleen, that canker of the human heart, + Makes him oft wish he could from life depart. + It is a scourge offended laws can’t give, + The worst of torments whilst its object live; + Sometimes it stops our vices as they rise, + While chaster thoughts the wav’ing mind supplies. + Oft does a parent with paternal care, + His only Daughter with affection rear; + Soon as the time arrives his cares to pay, + A vile seducer takes his gem away;— + Wafts her to infamy of every kind, + Then leaves the object with a tortur’d mind. + Still does her heart with pure affection burn, + Wish to a father’s roof again to turn;— + Just at that period—lucre tempts again, + And the weak vessel totters on the main: + She reels, she sinks, from chaste affections view, + To taste the draught of bitterness anew. + Some vile procuress with a demon’s skill, + In a short period gains her to her will; + Till grown familiar to a harlot’s life, + Quote inebriety to banish strife; + Becomes familiar to a vicious plan, + Adds to the charmers in the siren’s den; + To liquor fly to banish thoughts of home, + And nightly forc’d for ways and means to roam. + Sweet health is banish’d and she finds too late, + Some dismal bridewell soon must be her fate; + All means are fled, the staff of life to gain, + To bridewell hurried with remorse and pain. + A pass is granted,—to her father sent, + Where she is foster’d from the element. + A tender parent kiss the long lost child, + Assures forgiveness tho’ by grief turn’d wild. + Soon as the mind to calmer scenes invite, + He bless the hour that brought his lost to sight. + A scene like this came lately to my ear, + I know the parent and his worth revere. + Frequent do parents cause the great distress, + That on their daughters unexpected press. + The mother drains her pockets very low, + That Miss may make a gaudy flippant show; + To country balls she often bends her way, + And is allowed with cards and dice to play. + View but the manners of the modern belle, + And see if they don’t levity foretell: + The bosom oft appears too much in view, + Sweet modesty is forc’d to bid adieu: + To her chaste dictates she cannot attend, + Indeed they do not deem her as a friend. + Mark how they roll their lively eyes about, + Just like her Ladyship when at a rout. + A piece of music next the parlour grace, + While vanity is striding on apace: + So swift she flies that almost time outrun; + By her manœuvres oft the fair’s undone; + Miss cannot look on any but a squire, + Or dress’d up coxcombs, only them admire; + An honest farmer’s son they call a clown, + Likes none but puppies living in a town; + Such creatures, soon as wedded, only strive + How to jog on and keep the game alive: + Careless who suffers if they can but live, + Wanting still more than prudent parents give; + All wishes gratified,—in hopes that Miss + Will soon enjoy the matrimonial bliss. + A prudent living man is known to say, + For me such bawbles dress too fine and gay; + She’d squander money much against my will, + In paying milliner’s enormous bill. + Such conduct in a parent may be wise, + Where good estates can all his wants supplies; + The ill effects that rise from such a plan, + Is were stern poverty assails the man. + Parents there are who often live this way, + Although two shillings in the pound can’t pay. + Soon as their creditors do sharply press, + The lovely maidens feel extreme distress; + No lover then to sooth the drooping eye, + When poverty is seen from them they fly: + Unfit to baffle with the frowns of life, + And greatly more so for to be a wife. + Then does the wealthy Libertine succeed, + Furnish their pockets known to be in need; + Takes Miss from home to grace a chaise and pair, + While the unhappy parents nurse despair. + + + + +A LETTER FROM +_Miss Maria C***_, _to her Parents at_ + + + * * * * * + + My pen I take, my wretched fate to state, + Pardon, oh pardon, tho’ a vile ingrate; + Your daughter late so innocent and gay, + Was by a vile seducer led astray + From those chase precepts by you taught to know, + That he who sets above knows all below; + Either on earth or in the heavenly skies, + Each substance falls or as he wishes rise. + I fell a victim to unchaste desires, + And feel those sorrows vengeance now requires, + After I left a parent’s house and home, + Induced with wicked Henry to roam; + That sweet society my bosom knew, + From me that instant bade a long adieu. + Time, I much fear, will not that balm restore; + Its fled from me and will return no more. + I know that sweet compassion fills your mind, + And to forgiveness ever was inclin’d; + Take then your daughter to your arms again, + And she from latent vices will abstain. + With pious thoughts she’ll pass the day away, + Till stern reproof is banish’d far away; + Too well I know that censure will appear, + In every mansion when Maria’s there; + Soon as the vengeance of her sting is cast, + The scoffers arrogance no longer last; + Too true I know that woes I’m doom’d to bear, + The unfeeling frown the virgin’s haughty sneer; + In time they’ll vanish when its known I rove, + In virtue’s path with innocence and love. + My prayers I’ll offer to the throne on high, + And live as ordered by the Deity. + Lately I met my Mother’s upper maid, + To ask her questions I was much afraid; + Yet ere I bade the honest girl adieu, + Nature compell’d me to inquire of you: + She said my mother fell a prey to grief, + And that no medicine could give relief; + In stating this a tear escaped her eye. + Return she cried, then heaved a tender sigh: + I will return and ere her spirits fled, + Press my lov’d mother on her couch or bed. + For pity’s sake write me a line to say, + If I to you may speedy bend my way; + This boon is all I ask and now I crave, + A parent’s blessing ere I meet the grave. + + [Picture: Divider] + + + + +To the Memory of +MR. PAGE, +LATE OF +_PULHAM MARKET_. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + My pen but faintly can declare, + The virtues of his mind; + Well he deserves the friendly tear, + From those he leaves behind. + + Dissimulation could not rest + A moment on his face, + No wicked thoughts annoy’d his breast, + Nor envy found a place. + + To friends and neighbours was sincere, + He cheerful pass’d the day; + His memory many will revere, + Till they are call’d away. + + Enough I cannot say of him, + The reason’s very plain; + But few were so devoid of sin, + No better here remain. + + Quite well he knew the ways of life, + Performed one noble plan, + Avoiding things that brought or strife, + And justice did to man. + + His conversation sweetly pure, + For prudence led the way; + None but those he could endure, + Who would her strains obey. + + Once on a time by ills oppress’d, + I asked his friendly aid; + He lull’d my anxious mind to rest, + And sorrow quick dismayed. + + At Pulham market, left behind, + Those friends he did revere; + To every stranger they are kind + To friendship are sincere. + + No party spirit there can dwell, + A day within that place; + They bid her give a long farewell, + Nor dare to show her face. + + The humble tradesman can retire, + If pleasure leads his mind; + Beside the wealthy farmer’s fire, + And gain attention kind. + + The labouring poor will seldom part, + From those that him employ; + Good usage animates the heart, + And bitter thoughts destroy. + + In the gay village all around, + A little cot you’ll find, + Behind it is the garden ground, + To please the tenants’ mind. + + Seldom is rais’d the tasker’s cot, + Not often turn’d away; + No murmuring on his master’s spot, + He cheerful him obey. + + The farmer’s wife the poor supply, + With barm and milk beside, + To do them good each other vie, + To serve them is their pride. + + The humble and the wealthy sing + To Albion’s long success; + Good news for England pleasure bring, + And adverse gales distress. + + Again on Page my humble strains, + With melancholy dwell; + To tell the grief and heart felt pains, + To bid a long farewell. + + It’s gratitude that urge the pen, + It’s friendship leads the way; + To speak the virtues of a man, + That death has call’d away. + + Oh may his spirit ever rest, + Beside the God of all, + And ever number’d with the blest, + Till he shall judge us all. + + Death brought no terrors to his heart, + For resignation staid, + Till from his life he should depart, + And lent her cheering aid. + + Oh God he cried I’ve no pretence, + To think election sure; + Cleanse, cleanse my soul, ere I go hence + And join me with the pure. + + + + +POLITICAL SURGEON. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + Tune—“The Exciseman.” + + In a country village that’s near, + A very good market for beef; + Thro’ a lane a neat mansion appear, + Whose owner can give you relief. + + No one in the place doubts his skill, + Due attention he pays to the poor, + To them he’ll diminish his bill; + If adversity stands at the door. + + I fear he brain fevers increase, + To those that are fond of the state, + To upbraid it he seldom will cease, + And will its mishaps glad relate. + + To men that are loyal and brave; + Such stuff will but faintly go down, + All judge it the trick of a knave, + That endeavour to harass the crown. + + When first to the village he went; + All pensions and placemen were bad, + Of doctrine so foul he’s relent, + By vanity’s rays he’s misled. + + When a man is well known to be poor, + Such gammon he’ll cram in your ear, + Yet when the wolf’s fled from his door, + He a different thing will appear. + + The time that I stated ’twas thought, + He scarcely could raise half a crown, + And some people say not a groat, + Till a lady arrived in the town. + + But soon he found money in hand, + Enough for to purchase a farm, + Of two hundred acres of land, + Which did all his cravings disarm. + + He attended me once to ease pain; + I found him a man very wise; + Awhile would my patience detain; + To tell me the stocks could not rise. + + He said that the state was so poor, + A bankrupt it soon would be found, + I told him to state it no more + His noddle I feared was unsound. + + The camelion its colours oft change, + And so can the doctor his plan, + To loyalty’s converse can range, + To suit any very rich man. + + With the ladies he neatly can toy, + I mean quite by decency’s rule; + Yet his nonsense the wiser annoy, + Of sagacity’s plan but a tool. + + A more sober man cannot be, + For water is chief of his drink; + He is very well liked on by me, + I’m always for purple and pink. + + + + +CHEERFUL ISAAC. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + Tune—“The Wedding Day.” + + Isaac lives in a cottage near the road side, + He envies not Princes or Kings, + Unacquainted with splendor no lover of pride, + He says it oft poverty brings. + + Trudges all day with his plough void of care, + At eve to the village he flies, + In hopes a good ditty or story to hear; + For those all his wishes supplies. + + Sometimes his noddle so dizzy is grown, + That he cannot exact his path find; + Yet Isaac is nettled whenever tis known, + Slaves to old Bacchus go blind. + + True friendship he loves and friendly to all, + That dame fortune e’er send to his door; + With a glass of strong ale welcome them all, + Tho’ it be from the labouring poor. + + His wife is at all times as anxious to send, + Her boon were distress points the way; + To the needy she is daily a friend, + Her efforts oft poverty stay. + + They trudge on united unblemished by art, + She delights in the dairy and cow; + From the first dawn of morn till phœbus depart, + While Isaac’s engaged with the plough. + + No worthier couple dwell far around, + Good nature in them can be seen; + In their happy retreat mirth wide abound, + Unknown to ill nature or spleen. + + May Isaac and many that live near the town, + This Christmas most cheerfully meet; + To chat o’er a glass at the Falcon or Crown, + Join’d by others that at dwell in the street. + + Both Landlords endeavour strangers to please, + By keeping of liquors the best; + With very soft beds that you may lay at ease, + When disposed to adjourn for to rest. + + At Pulham Market, this motto remain, + Let us always be merry thro’ life, + Drink success to our King again and again, + To banish dull care pain and strife. + + + + +To the Memory of +MR. SELF, +LATE OF +_PULHAM MARKET HALL_. + + + The tear of regret was observed all around, + When our neighbour and friend was consigned to the ground; + If penury hung round the Cottager’s door, + He ne’er would forget to remember the poor. + So cheerful in converse you always would find, + Neither spleen or ill nature could harass his mind; + Till age made its inroads he’d join with the gay, + At manly amusements to gladden the day. + In most friendly meetings for him they would call, + For I can say with truth he was liked by us all; + Good news for his country would him much pleasure bring, + For no subject in Britain rever’d more his King. + His conduct and actions would plainly foretell, + As a husband or parent but few did excel. + He was always a friend to the labouring poor, + To serve them at all times no one could strive more. + In all parish concerns he was found to be just, + And ne’er was the man that dishonoured his trust, + May the Angel that note all our errors above, + Blot out our lov’d friends thro’ angelical love: + May his spirit be numbered with those of the blest, + The moment grim death planted darts in his breast. + May his Children be strangers to every strife, + That too frequent attend many mortals thro’ life; + And when it shall choose the Almighty to call + Them from earthly troubles may he pardon them all. + + + + +THE VALIANT CAPTAIN. + + + * * * * * + + Tune.—“Derry Down.” + + This night I am trying a picture to draw, + Whom you know very well is a son of the law; + A wonder of wonders, he will not drive the quill, + To injure another, or make a bad will. + + To increase a dispute he begs leave to decline, + And will settle such things o’er a glass of good wine; + When ’twas said we soon should be invaded by France, + Oh dear how he made his gay pony quick dance. + + I fear ’twould be found he would be in the rear, + If the time was to come that their armies were near; + And was they on Albion’s shore to arrive, + The shock would be such that he could not survive. + + As Hudibras says, he this notion retain, + He that quick runs away may perhaps fight again; + On Sundays he brought his brave men to our view, + But some people say they no fighting e’er knew. + + Had such been the case I will answer to say, + But those very brave valiants would soon run away; + Give them plumb pudding and plenty of beef, + And alone on the ground would be found the grand Chief. + + Show him but a bottle of excellent wine, + And I’d warrant to say he’d the contest decline; + If talking would do he would frighten them all, + But I don’t think he’d like to see powder or ball, + + Come whistling near to his brain-pan or heart; + From such trying scenes he would gladly depart; + As a neighbour he’s worthy the village esteem, + May he ne’er want a bottle nor I a good theme. + + [Picture: Divider] + + + + +OLD JACK.—A SONG. + + + Tune.—“The Exciseman”. + + Not far from the village you’ll see, + A snug little mansion appear, + As pleasant I think as can be, + To divert all its inmates from care. + + It’s embellish’d with pebbles and glass, + Which in buildings is rare to be seen; + To enliven the eye as you pass, + In the front is a very neat green. + + One side there a clump of fir trees, + The other a garden with fruit, + With flowerets the ladies to please, + And a jasmine tree into boot. + + A paddock adjoins the loved spot, + Another thing more you’ll denote; + For work-men a very neat cot, + With a very good round little moat. + + At the end of the cottage oft lay, + The black little scot on the straw; + On whom do old Jack in the day + At times lay his delicate paw. + + I dare not almost for my life, + Tell Jack what I really do think; + That the scot he likes well as his wife, + Except it is strong beer to drink. + + But old Jack he is getting quite old, + Was always a good natured man; + You could not allure him by gold, + To act in a dishonest plan. + + Few dare the old man to oppose, + Be him ever so much in the wrong, + For many he takes by the nose, {20} + Be they ever so stout or so strong. + + He envies not those in fine gigs, + His mind he keeps constant at ease, + Pass his time with the bullocks and pigs, + And his master most commonly please. + + May the master and man live as long, + As comforts on earth can be found; + Then be join’d to the heavenly throng, + Where angelical pleasures abound. + + + + +ON THE DEATH +OF +_BEN GEE_. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + Alas, the dull bell his departure declares, + His wife and poor children are shedding those tears + That flows from sincerity’s bosom of grief, + Scarce can old time give a lapse from relief. + The widow to ease or the orphan protect, + He would never a minute in friendship neglect; + Sometimes ungrateful they each of them prov’d, + At tales of affliction his bosom was moved. + How cheerful he’d set tho’ hard blew the gale, + Amusing his friends with a voyager’s tale. + Ill nature did never his features deform, + His hopes were thro’ life to weather the storm. + Sometimes fickle fortune to him would prove kind, + Then he’d furl up his sails for a respite to mind; + When the mishaps of life to his bosom gave pain, + He would boldly embark on the ocean again; + In hopes that hereafter more lucky to be, + He would venture his all to the boisterous sea. + To a gloomy prison, with numbers hard press’d, + Oft thought of his home was greatly distress’d; + Yet the moment the tears of affliction was o’er, + Cherish’d a hope for to see them once more. + Return’d and no language those joys can impart, + When he press’d with affection his wife to his heart; + His children all gladden’d their Father to see, + Some hung round his neck, while some press’d his knee. + Pure friendship then enter’d their old friend to greet, + And happy was many, the sailor to meet. + They cried, your long absence have given us pain, + But thank God in safety we see you again. + ’T was the last trip he made, pale sickness o’er-spread + The cheek once so rosy, and forced to his bed, + A Man that ne’er harbour’d a thought in his breast + To injure another or rob him of rest. + With calmness he cried, wife and children adieu, + My feelings foretel me I’m not long with you. + GOD fix my departure, and his will be done, + Lay me close by my house when my hour glass is run. + Complied were his wishes, for near is the grave, + Where Lieth the Body of BEN GEE the Brave. + + + + +ELEGY +ON THE DEATHS OF +_MR. BEALE AND HIS DAUGHTER_. + + + Late of Herts. + + My Friends are fled from mortal eye, + God sent the just decree; + Let us submit to him on high, + Who made the Earth and Sea. + + I hear again that death has paid, + A second visit where, + Lately dwelt a virtuous maid, + And parent’s tender care. + + Dear Madam, let your troubled, breast, + This Earthly comfort find; + God alone can lull to rest + The widow’s downcast mind. + + Late did your worthy partner say, + From death no one can flee; + Ere many months are pass’d away, + Our Nancy rests by me. + + Clos’d in that spot from public view, + I’ve pointed out the grave; + Let pious thoughts stern grief subdue, + Jesus repentants save. + + Adieu! he cried to all around, + That stood beside his bed; + Sweet mercies to us will abound, + If we by grace are led. + + We know that our redeemer live, + Beside the God of all; + Who will our errors all forgive, + If we sincerely call. + + Death came mantling on his brow, + With firmness still he prayed; + O God, on sinners mercy show, + Ere in the grave we’re laid. + + His wife and children now deplore + Their loss with many a sigh, + And so does many labouring poor, + With many a weeping eye. + + Truly he did assistance lend, + To those that stood in need, + The orphan in him found a friend, + A constant one indeed. + + _FINIS_. + + * * * * * + + Walker, Printer, near the Duke’s Palace, Norwich. + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{20} Jack at times shaves his brother workmen. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ADDRESS TO A WEALTHY LIBERTINE*** + + +******* This file should be named 33456-0.txt or 33456-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/3/4/5/33456 + + + +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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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: An Address to a Wealthy Libertine + or, the Melancholy Effects of Seduction; with a Letter from an + Unfortunate Farmer's Daughter, to her Parents in Norfolk + + +Author: James Parkerson + + + +Release Date: August 17, 2010 [eBook #33456] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ADDRESS TO A WEALTHY +LIBERTINE*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the early 1800’s edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org.</p> +<h1>AN ADDRESS<br /> +<span class="smcap">to a</span><br /> +<i>WEALTHY LIBERTINE</i>;<br /> +<span class="smcap">or</span>, <span class="smcap">the</span><br +/> +Melancholy Effects<br /> +<span class="smcap">of</span><br /> +SEDUCTION;<br /> +<span class="smcap">with a</span><br /> +LETTER<br /> +FROM AN UNFORTUNATE<br /> +Farmer’s Daughter,<br /> +<span class="smcap">to her</span><br /> +<i>PARENTS IN NORFOLK</i>.</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>PRICE SIX-PENCE</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/decdiv.png"> +<img alt= +"Decorative divider" +title= +"Decorative divider" +src="images/decdiv.png" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">sold</span><br +/> +By J. PARKERSON, <span class="smcap">Jun.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/decdiv.png"> +<img alt= +"Decorative divider" +title= +"Decorative divider" +src="images/decdiv.png" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Walker, Printer, near the +Duke’s Palace, Norwich.</p> +<h2><!-- page 3--><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +3</span>An Address, &c.</h2> +<p class="poetry"> Believe me, Sir; I do these +lines impart<br /> +With every pang that can corrode the heart;<br /> +Bring to your mind a dismal scene late past,<br /> +And let that guilty Amour be your last.<br /> +Think of my friend that was of late so gay,<br /> +By your vile arts dishonour’d and away;<br /> +From every joy that animates this life,<br /> +The tender mother and the happy wife.<br /> +A husband’s frowns, a father’s burning tears,<br /> +For Stella’s folly much increase their cares.<br /> +A brother mourns, in solitude forlorn,<br /> +To hear his Stella meet reproof and scorn:<br /> +In tears he cries, my sister’s late disgrace<br /> +Will plant a stigma on the female race.<br /> +Those friends so late that used to Stella stray,<br /> +Now bend their courses far another way.<br /> +She mourns in privacy her honour flown,<br /> +And sighs to find illicit scenes are known.<br /> +These sorrowing truths I feelingly renew,<br /> +And know, oh guilty man! they rise from you.<br /> +Can all your wealth lost honour ever gain?<br /> +That, Sir, is scorn’d—it is the impious stain<br /> +You’ve brought on Stella, to the end of life,<br /> +And robs her all the comforts of a wife.<br /> +Abandon’d man you must atone for all,<br /> +Ere life is o’er on God for mercy call.<br /> +<!-- page 4--><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +4</span>Your mind is harass’d by reflection’s +gale,<br /> +That oft to you its bitterness exhale:<br /> +Tempted by folly every scene pursue,<br /> +That dissipation can expose to view.<br /> +The softer pleasures that enrich the mind,<br /> +That learning dictates, from you lag behind;<br /> +Its cruel sport that bears a sov’reign sway,<br /> +To them and such like them you waste the day.<br /> +Know, Sir, that wealth an’t given to us here,<br /> +To bring to infamy the British fair.<br /> +Too much, I fear, you wanton hours employ,<br /> +The needy woman daily to decoy.<br /> +Too many wantons now disgrace this Isle,<br /> +Whose bad example off the young beguile;<br /> +I hope that plans to stop them will increase,<br /> +And her that now is wretched rest in peace.<br /> +Your gen’rous family will ever gain,<br /> +Affection’s tribute while we life retain:<br /> +Pure is the vine, except a leaf or two,<br /> +Soon they’ll decay and be no more in view.<br /> +Disgrac’d, disown’d, to foreign lands they’ll +fly,<br /> +The censur’d objects of the Deity.<br /> +Wealth cannot stop the torrent of reproach,<br /> +Tho’ screen’d from Britons by a gaudy coach;<br /> +Its inmate oft tho’ clad in rich array,<br /> +Meets hoots and hisses as he rides away;<br /> +Till spleen, that canker of the human heart,<br /> +Makes him oft wish he could from life depart.<br /> +<!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>It is a scourge offended laws can’t give,<br /> +The worst of torments whilst its object live;<br /> +Sometimes it stops our vices as they rise,<br /> +While chaster thoughts the wav’ing mind supplies.<br /> +Oft does a parent with paternal care,<br /> +His only Daughter with affection rear;<br /> +Soon as the time arrives his cares to pay,<br /> +A vile seducer takes his gem away;—<br /> +Wafts her to infamy of every kind,<br /> +Then leaves the object with a tortur’d mind.<br /> +Still does her heart with pure affection burn,<br /> +Wish to a father’s roof again to turn;—<br /> +Just at that period—lucre tempts again,<br /> +And the weak vessel totters on the main:<br /> +She reels, she sinks, from chaste affections view,<br /> +To taste the draught of bitterness anew.<br /> +Some vile procuress with a demon’s skill,<br /> +In a short period gains her to her will;<br /> +Till grown familiar to a harlot’s life,<br /> +Quote inebriety to banish strife;<br /> +Becomes familiar to a vicious plan,<br /> +Adds to the charmers in the siren’s den;<br /> +To liquor fly to banish thoughts of home,<br /> +And nightly forc’d for ways and means to roam.<br /> +Sweet health is banish’d and she finds too late,<br /> +Some dismal bridewell soon must be her fate;<br /> +All means are fled, the staff of life to gain,<br /> +To bridewell hurried with remorse and pain.<br /> +<!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +6</span>A pass is granted,—to her father sent,<br /> +Where she is foster’d from the element.<br /> +A tender parent kiss the long lost child,<br /> +Assures forgiveness tho’ by grief turn’d wild.<br /> +Soon as the mind to calmer scenes invite,<br /> +He bless the hour that brought his lost to sight.<br /> +A scene like this came lately to my ear,<br /> +I know the parent and his worth revere.<br /> +Frequent do parents cause the great distress,<br /> +That on their daughters unexpected press.<br /> +The mother drains her pockets very low,<br /> +That Miss may make a gaudy flippant show;<br /> +To country balls she often bends her way,<br /> +And is allowed with cards and dice to play.<br /> +View but the manners of the modern belle,<br /> +And see if they don’t levity foretell:<br /> +The bosom oft appears too much in view,<br /> +Sweet modesty is forc’d to bid adieu:<br /> +To her chaste dictates she cannot attend,<br /> +Indeed they do not deem her as a friend.<br /> +Mark how they roll their lively eyes about,<br /> +Just like her Ladyship when at a rout.<br /> +A piece of music next the parlour grace,<br /> +While vanity is striding on apace:<br /> +So swift she flies that almost time outrun;<br /> +By her manœuvres oft the fair’s undone;<br /> +Miss cannot look on any but a squire,<br /> +Or dress’d up coxcombs, only them admire;<br /> +<!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +7</span>An honest farmer’s son they call a clown,<br /> +Likes none but puppies living in a town;<br /> +Such creatures, soon as wedded, only strive<br /> +How to jog on and keep the game alive:<br /> +Careless who suffers if they can but live,<br /> +Wanting still more than prudent parents give;<br /> +All wishes gratified,—in hopes that Miss<br /> +Will soon enjoy the matrimonial bliss.<br /> +A prudent living man is known to say,<br /> +For me such bawbles dress too fine and gay;<br /> +She’d squander money much against my will,<br /> +In paying milliner’s enormous bill.<br /> +Such conduct in a parent may be wise,<br /> +Where good estates can all his wants supplies;<br /> +The ill effects that rise from such a plan,<br /> +Is were stern poverty assails the man.<br /> +Parents there are who often live this way,<br /> +Although two shillings in the pound can’t pay.<br /> +Soon as their creditors do sharply press,<br /> +The lovely maidens feel extreme distress;<br /> +No lover then to sooth the drooping eye,<br /> +When poverty is seen from them they fly:<br /> +Unfit to baffle with the frowns of life,<br /> +And greatly more so for to be a wife.<br /> +Then does the wealthy Libertine succeed,<br /> +Furnish their pockets known to be in need;<br /> +Takes Miss from home to grace a chaise and pair,<br /> +While the unhappy parents nurse despair.</p> +<h2><!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span><span class="smcap">a letter from</span><br /> +<i>Miss Maria C***</i>, <i>to her Parents at</i></h2> +<div class="gapshortdoubleline"> </div> +<p class="poetry"> My pen I take, my wretched +fate to state,<br /> +Pardon, oh pardon, tho’ a vile ingrate;<br /> +Your daughter late so innocent and gay,<br /> +Was by a vile seducer led astray<br /> +From those chase precepts by you taught to know,<br /> +That he who sets above knows all below;<br /> +Either on earth or in the heavenly skies,<br /> +Each substance falls or as he wishes rise.<br /> +I fell a victim to unchaste desires,<br /> +And feel those sorrows vengeance now requires,<br /> +After I left a parent’s house and home,<br /> +Induced with wicked Henry to roam;<br /> +That sweet society my bosom knew,<br /> +From me that instant bade a long adieu.<br /> +Time, I much fear, will not that balm restore;<br /> +Its fled from me and will return no more.<br /> +I know that sweet compassion fills your mind,<br /> +And to forgiveness ever was inclin’d;<br /> +Take then your daughter to your arms again,<br /> +And she from latent vices will abstain.<br /> +With pious thoughts she’ll pass the day away,<br /> +Till stern reproof is banish’d far away;<br /> +<!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +9</span>Too well I know that censure will appear,<br /> +In every mansion when Maria’s there;<br /> +Soon as the vengeance of her sting is cast,<br /> +The scoffers arrogance no longer last;<br /> +Too true I know that woes I’m doom’d to bear,<br /> +The unfeeling frown the virgin’s haughty sneer;<br /> +In time they’ll vanish when its known I rove,<br /> +In virtue’s path with innocence and love.<br /> +My prayers I’ll offer to the throne on high,<br /> +And live as ordered by the Deity.<br /> +Lately I met my Mother’s upper maid,<br /> +To ask her questions I was much afraid;<br /> +Yet ere I bade the honest girl adieu,<br /> +Nature compell’d me to inquire of you:<br /> +She said my mother fell a prey to grief,<br /> +And that no medicine could give relief;<br /> +In stating this a tear escaped her eye.<br /> +Return she cried, then heaved a tender sigh:<br /> +I will return and ere her spirits fled,<br /> +Press my lov’d mother on her couch or bed.<br /> +For pity’s sake write me a line to say,<br /> +If I to you may speedy bend my way;<br /> +This boon is all I ask and now I crave,<br /> +A parent’s blessing ere I meet the grave.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<h2><!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>To the Memory of<br /> +MR. PAGE,<br /> +<span class="smcap">late of</span><br /> +<i>PULHAM MARKET</i>.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<p class="poetry">My pen but faintly can declare,<br /> + The virtues of his mind;<br /> +Well he deserves the friendly tear,<br /> + From those he leaves behind.</p> +<p class="poetry">Dissimulation could not rest<br /> + A moment on his face,<br /> +No wicked thoughts annoy’d his breast,<br /> + Nor envy found a place.</p> +<p class="poetry">To friends and neighbours was sincere,<br /> + He cheerful pass’d the day;<br /> +His memory many will revere,<br /> + Till they are call’d away.</p> +<p class="poetry">Enough I cannot say of him,<br /> + The reason’s very plain;<br /> +But few were so devoid of sin,<br /> + No better here remain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Quite well he knew the ways of life,<br /> + Performed one noble plan,<br /> +Avoiding things that brought or strife,<br /> + And justice did to man.</p> +<p class="poetry">His conversation sweetly pure,<br /> + For prudence led the way;<br /> +None but those he could endure,<br /> + Who would her strains obey.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 11</span>Once on a time by ills +oppress’d,<br /> + I asked his friendly aid;<br /> +He lull’d my anxious mind to rest,<br /> + And sorrow quick dismayed.</p> +<p class="poetry">At Pulham market, left behind,<br /> + Those friends he did revere;<br /> +To every stranger they are kind<br /> + To friendship are sincere.</p> +<p class="poetry">No party spirit there can dwell,<br /> + A day within that place;<br /> +They bid her give a long farewell,<br /> + Nor dare to show her face.</p> +<p class="poetry">The humble tradesman can retire,<br /> + If pleasure leads his mind;<br /> +Beside the wealthy farmer’s fire,<br /> + And gain attention kind.</p> +<p class="poetry">The labouring poor will seldom part,<br /> + From those that him employ;<br /> +Good usage animates the heart,<br /> + And bitter thoughts destroy.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the gay village all around,<br /> + A little cot you’ll find,<br /> +Behind it is the garden ground,<br /> + To please the tenants’ mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">Seldom is rais’d the tasker’s +cot,<br /> + Not often turn’d away;<br /> +No murmuring on his master’s spot,<br /> + He cheerful him obey.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 12</span>The farmer’s wife the poor +supply,<br /> + With barm and milk beside,<br /> +To do them good each other vie,<br /> + To serve them is their pride.</p> +<p class="poetry">The humble and the wealthy sing<br /> + To Albion’s long success;<br /> +Good news for England pleasure bring,<br /> + And adverse gales distress.</p> +<p class="poetry">Again on Page my humble strains,<br /> + With melancholy dwell;<br /> +To tell the grief and heart felt pains,<br /> + To bid a long farewell.</p> +<p class="poetry">It’s gratitude that urge the pen,<br /> + It’s friendship leads the way;<br /> +To speak the virtues of a man,<br /> + That death has call’d away.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh may his spirit ever rest,<br /> + Beside the God of all,<br /> +And ever number’d with the blest,<br /> + Till he shall judge us all.</p> +<p class="poetry">Death brought no terrors to his heart,<br /> + For resignation staid,<br /> +Till from his life he should depart,<br /> + And lent her cheering aid.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh God he cried I’ve no pretence,<br /> + To think election sure;<br /> +Cleanse, cleanse my soul, ere I go hence<br /> + And join me with the pure.</p> +<h2><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span>POLITICAL SURGEON.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune—“The +Exciseman.”</p> +<p class="poetry">In a country village that’s near,<br /> + A very good market for beef;<br /> +Thro’ a lane a neat mansion appear,<br /> + Whose owner can give you relief.</p> +<p class="poetry">No one in the place doubts his skill,<br /> + Due attention he pays to the poor,<br /> +To them he’ll diminish his bill;<br /> + If adversity stands at the door.</p> +<p class="poetry">I fear he brain fevers increase,<br /> + To those that are fond of the state,<br /> +To upbraid it he seldom will cease,<br /> + And will its mishaps glad relate.</p> +<p class="poetry">To men that are loyal and brave;<br /> + Such stuff will but faintly go down,<br /> +All judge it the trick of a knave,<br /> + That endeavour to harass the crown.</p> +<p class="poetry">When first to the village he went;<br /> + All pensions and placemen were bad,<br /> +Of doctrine so foul he’s relent,<br /> + By vanity’s rays he’s misled.</p> +<p class="poetry">When a man is well known to be poor,<br /> + Such gammon he’ll cram in your ear,<br /> +Yet when the wolf’s fled from his door,<br /> + He a different thing will appear.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 14--><a name="page14"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 14</span>The time that I stated ’twas +thought,<br /> + He scarcely could raise half a crown,<br /> +And some people say not a groat,<br /> + Till a lady arrived in the town.</p> +<p class="poetry">But soon he found money in hand,<br /> + Enough for to purchase a farm,<br /> +Of two hundred acres of land,<br /> + Which did all his cravings disarm.</p> +<p class="poetry">He attended me once to ease pain;<br /> + I found him a man very wise;<br /> +Awhile would my patience detain;<br /> + To tell me the stocks could not rise.</p> +<p class="poetry">He said that the state was so poor,<br /> + A bankrupt it soon would be found,<br /> +I told him to state it no more<br /> + His noddle I feared was unsound.</p> +<p class="poetry">The camelion its colours oft change,<br /> + And so can the doctor his plan,<br /> +To loyalty’s converse can range,<br /> + To suit any very rich man.</p> +<p class="poetry">With the ladies he neatly can toy,<br /> + I mean quite by decency’s rule;<br /> +Yet his nonsense the wiser annoy,<br /> + Of sagacity’s plan but a tool.</p> +<p class="poetry">A more sober man cannot be,<br /> + For water is chief of his drink;<br /> +He is very well liked on by me,<br /> + I’m always for purple and pink.</p> +<h2><!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +15</span>CHEERFUL ISAAC.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune—“The Wedding +Day.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Isaac lives in a cottage near the road side,<br +/> + He envies not Princes or Kings,<br /> +Unacquainted with splendor no lover of pride,<br /> + He says it oft poverty brings.</p> +<p class="poetry">Trudges all day with his plough void of +care,<br /> + At eve to the village he flies,<br /> +In hopes a good ditty or story to hear;<br /> + For those all his wishes supplies.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sometimes his noddle so dizzy is grown,<br /> + That he cannot exact his path find;<br /> +Yet Isaac is nettled whenever tis known,<br /> + Slaves to old Bacchus go blind.</p> +<p class="poetry">True friendship he loves and friendly to +all,<br /> + That dame fortune e’er send to his door;<br /> +With a glass of strong ale welcome them all,<br /> + Tho’ it be from the labouring poor.</p> +<p class="poetry">His wife is at all times as anxious to send,<br +/> + Her boon were distress points the way;<br /> +To the needy she is daily a friend,<br /> + Her efforts oft poverty stay.</p> +<p class="poetry">They trudge on united unblemished by art,<br /> + She delights in the dairy and cow;<br /> +From the first dawn of morn till phœbus depart,<br /> + While Isaac’s engaged with the plough.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 16</span>No worthier couple dwell far +around,<br /> + Good nature in them can be seen;<br /> +In their happy retreat mirth wide abound,<br /> + Unknown to ill nature or spleen.</p> +<p class="poetry">May Isaac and many that live near the town,<br +/> + This Christmas most cheerfully meet;<br /> +To chat o’er a glass at the Falcon or Crown,<br /> + Join’d by others that at dwell in the +street.</p> +<p class="poetry">Both Landlords endeavour strangers to +please,<br /> + By keeping of liquors the best;<br /> +With very soft beds that you may lay at ease,<br /> + When disposed to adjourn for to rest.</p> +<p class="poetry">At Pulham Market, this motto remain,<br /> + Let us always be merry thro’ life,<br /> +Drink success to our King again and again,<br /> + To banish dull care pain and strife.</p> +<h2>To the Memory of<br /> +MR. SELF,<br /> +<span class="smcap">late of</span><br /> +<i>PULHAM MARKET HALL</i>.</h2> +<p class="poetry"> The tear of regret was +observed all around,<br /> +When our neighbour and friend was consigned to the ground;<br /> +If penury hung round the Cottager’s door,<br /> +He ne’er would forget to remember the poor.<br /> +<!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>So cheerful in converse you always would find,<br /> +Neither spleen or ill nature could harass his mind;<br /> +Till age made its inroads he’d join with the gay,<br /> +At manly amusements to gladden the day.<br /> +In most friendly meetings for him they would call,<br /> +For I can say with truth he was liked by us all;<br /> +Good news for his country would him much pleasure bring,<br /> +For no subject in Britain rever’d more his King.<br /> +His conduct and actions would plainly foretell,<br /> +As a husband or parent but few did excel.<br /> +He was always a friend to the labouring poor,<br /> +To serve them at all times no one could strive more.<br /> +In all parish concerns he was found to be just,<br /> +And ne’er was the man that dishonoured his trust,<br /> +May the Angel that note all our errors above,<br /> +Blot out our lov’d friends thro’ angelical love:<br +/> +May his spirit be numbered with those of the blest,<br /> +The moment grim death planted darts in his breast.<br /> +May his Children be strangers to every strife,<br /> +That too frequent attend many mortals thro’ life;<br /> +And when it shall choose the Almighty to call<br /> +Them from earthly troubles may he pardon them all.</p> +<h2><!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>THE VALIANT CAPTAIN.</h2> +<div class="gapshortdoubleline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune.—“Derry +Down.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> This night I am trying a +picture to draw,<br /> +Whom you know very well is a son of the law;<br /> +A wonder of wonders, he will not drive the quill,<br /> +To injure another, or make a bad will.</p> +<p class="poetry">To increase a dispute he begs leave to +decline,<br /> +And will settle such things o’er a glass of good wine;<br +/> +When ’twas said we soon should be invaded by France,<br /> +Oh dear how he made his gay pony quick dance.</p> +<p class="poetry">I fear ’twould be found he would be in +the rear,<br /> +If the time was to come that their armies were near;<br /> +And was they on Albion’s shore to arrive,<br /> +The shock would be such that he could not survive.</p> +<p class="poetry">As Hudibras says, he this notion retain,<br /> +He that quick runs away may perhaps fight again;<br /> +On Sundays he brought his brave men to our view,<br /> +But some people say they no fighting e’er knew.</p> +<p class="poetry">Had such been the case I will answer to say,<br +/> +But those very brave valiants would soon run away;<br /> +Give them plumb pudding and plenty of beef,<br /> +And alone on the ground would be found the grand Chief.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 19</span>Show him but a bottle of excellent +wine,<br /> +And I’d warrant to say he’d the contest decline;<br +/> +If talking would do he would frighten them all,<br /> +But I don’t think he’d like to see powder or +ball,</p> +<p class="poetry">Come whistling near to his brain-pan or +heart;<br /> +From such trying scenes he would gladly depart;<br /> +As a neighbour he’s worthy the village esteem,<br /> +May he ne’er want a bottle nor I a good theme.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<h2>OLD JACK.—A SONG.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune.—“The +Exciseman”.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not far from the village you’ll see,<br +/> + A snug little mansion appear,<br /> +As pleasant I think as can be,<br /> + To divert all its inmates from care.</p> +<p class="poetry">It’s embellish’d with pebbles and +glass,<br /> + Which in buildings is rare to be seen;<br /> +To enliven the eye as you pass,<br /> + In the front is a very neat green.</p> +<p class="poetry">One side there a clump of fir trees,<br /> + The other a garden with fruit,<br /> +With flowerets the ladies to please,<br /> + And a jasmine tree into boot.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 20--><a name="page20"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 20</span>A paddock adjoins the loved spot,<br +/> + Another thing more you’ll denote;<br /> +For work-men a very neat cot,<br /> + With a very good round little moat.</p> +<p class="poetry">At the end of the cottage oft lay,<br /> + The black little scot on the straw;<br /> +On whom do old Jack in the day<br /> + At times lay his delicate paw.</p> +<p class="poetry">I dare not almost for my life,<br /> + Tell Jack what I really do think;<br /> +That the scot he likes well as his wife,<br /> + Except it is strong beer to drink.</p> +<p class="poetry">But old Jack he is getting quite old,<br /> + Was always a good natured man;<br /> +You could not allure him by gold,<br /> + To act in a dishonest plan.</p> +<p class="poetry">Few dare the old man to oppose,<br /> + Be him ever so much in the wrong,<br /> +For many he takes by the nose, <a name="citation20"></a><a +href="#footnote20" class="citation">[20]</a><br /> + Be they ever so stout or so strong.</p> +<p class="poetry">He envies not those in fine gigs,<br /> + His mind he keeps constant at ease,<br /> +Pass his time with the bullocks and pigs,<br /> + And his master most commonly please.</p> +<p class="poetry">May the master and man live as long,<br /> + As comforts on earth can be found;<br /> +Then be join’d to the heavenly throng,<br /> + Where angelical pleasures abound.</p> +<h2><!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span><span class="smcap">on the death</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">of</span><br /> +<i>BEN GEE</i>.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/divider.png"> +<img alt= +"Divider" +title= +"Divider" +src="images/divider.png" /> +</a></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas, the dull bell his departure declares,<br +/> +His wife and poor children are shedding those tears<br /> +That flows from sincerity’s bosom of grief,<br /> +Scarce can old time give a lapse from relief.<br /> +The widow to ease or the orphan protect,<br /> +He would never a minute in friendship neglect;<br /> +Sometimes ungrateful they each of them prov’d,<br /> +At tales of affliction his bosom was moved.<br /> +How cheerful he’d set tho’ hard blew the gale,<br /> +Amusing his friends with a voyager’s tale.<br /> +Ill nature did never his features deform,<br /> +His hopes were thro’ life to weather the storm.<br /> +Sometimes fickle fortune to him would prove kind,<br /> +Then he’d furl up his sails for a respite to mind;<br /> +When the mishaps of life to his bosom gave pain,<br /> +He would boldly embark on the ocean again;<br /> +In hopes that hereafter more lucky to be,<br /> +He would venture his all to the boisterous sea.<br /> +To a gloomy prison, with numbers hard press’d,<br /> +Oft thought of his home was greatly distress’d;<br /> +<!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +22</span>Yet the moment the tears of affliction was +o’er,<br /> +Cherish’d a hope for to see them once more.<br /> +Return’d and no language those joys can impart,<br /> +When he press’d with affection his wife to his heart;<br /> +His children all gladden’d their Father to see,<br /> +Some hung round his neck, while some press’d his knee.<br +/> +Pure friendship then enter’d their old friend to greet,<br +/> +And happy was many, the sailor to meet.<br /> +They cried, your long absence have given us pain,<br /> +But thank God in safety we see you again.<br /> +’T was the last trip he made, pale sickness +o’er-spread<br /> +The cheek once so rosy, and forced to his bed,<br /> +A Man that ne’er harbour’d a thought in his breast<br +/> +To injure another or rob him of rest.<br /> +With calmness he cried, wife and children adieu,<br /> +My feelings foretel me I’m not long with you.<br /> +<span class="smcap">God</span> fix my departure, and his will be +done,<br /> +Lay me close by my house when my hour glass is run.<br /> +Complied were his wishes, for near is the grave,<br /> +Where Lieth the Body of <span class="smcap">Ben Gee</span> the +Brave.</p> +<h2><!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>ELEGY<br /> +<span class="smcap">on the deaths of</span><br /> +<span class="smcap"><i>Mr.</i></span><i> BEALE AND HIS +DAUGHTER</i>.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">Late of Herts.</p> +<p class="poetry">My Friends are fled from mortal eye,<br /> + God sent the just decree;<br /> +Let us submit to him on high,<br /> + Who made the Earth and Sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">I hear again that death has paid,<br /> + A second visit where,<br /> +Lately dwelt a virtuous maid,<br /> + And parent’s tender care.</p> +<p class="poetry">Dear Madam, let your troubled, breast,<br /> + This Earthly comfort find;<br /> +God alone can lull to rest<br /> + The widow’s downcast mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">Late did your worthy partner say,<br /> + From death no one can flee;<br /> +Ere many months are pass’d away,<br /> + Our Nancy rests by me.</p> +<p class="poetry">Clos’d in that spot from public view,<br +/> + I’ve pointed out the grave;<br /> +Let pious thoughts stern grief subdue,<br /> + Jesus repentants save.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 24</span>Adieu! he cried to all around,<br /> + That stood beside his bed;<br /> +Sweet mercies to us will abound,<br /> + If we by grace are led.</p> +<p class="poetry">We know that our redeemer live,<br /> + Beside the God of all;<br /> +Who will our errors all forgive,<br /> + If we sincerely call.</p> +<p class="poetry">Death came mantling on his brow,<br /> + With firmness still he prayed;<br /> +O God, on sinners mercy show,<br /> + Ere in the grave we’re laid.</p> +<p class="poetry">His wife and children now deplore<br /> + Their loss with many a sigh,<br /> +And so does many labouring poor,<br /> + With many a weeping eye.</p> +<p class="poetry">Truly he did assistance lend,<br /> + To those that stood in need,<br /> +The orphan in him found a friend,<br /> + A constant one indeed.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>FINIS</i>.</p> +<div class="gapshortdoubleline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Walker, Printer, near the +Duke’s Palace, Norwich.</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote20"></a><a href="#citation20" +class="footnote">[20]</a> Jack at times shaves his brother +workmen.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ADDRESS TO A WEALTHY LIBERTINE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 33456-h.htm or 33456-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/3/4/5/33456 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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: An Address to a Wealthy Libertine + or, the Melancholy Effects of Seduction; with a Letter from an + Unfortunate Farmer's Daughter, to her Parents in Norfolk + + +Author: James Parkerson + + + +Release Date: August 17, 2010 [eBook #33456] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ADDRESS TO A WEALTHY +LIBERTINE*** + + +Transcribed from the early 1800's edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org. + + + + + + AN ADDRESS + TO A + _WEALTHY LIBERTINE_; + OR, THE + Melancholy Effects + OF + SEDUCTION; + WITH A + LETTER + FROM AN UNFORTUNATE + Farmer's Daughter, + TO HER + _PARENTS IN NORFOLK_. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + _PRICE SIX-PENCE_. + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + SOLD + By J. PARKERSON, JUN. + + [Picture: Decorative divider] + + [Picture: Divider] + + Walker, Printer, near the Duke's Palace, Norwich. + + + + +An Address, &c. + + + Believe me, Sir; I do these lines impart + With every pang that can corrode the heart; + Bring to your mind a dismal scene late past, + And let that guilty Amour be your last. + Think of my friend that was of late so gay, + By your vile arts dishonour'd and away; + From every joy that animates this life, + The tender mother and the happy wife. + A husband's frowns, a father's burning tears, + For Stella's folly much increase their cares. + A brother mourns, in solitude forlorn, + To hear his Stella meet reproof and scorn: + In tears he cries, my sister's late disgrace + Will plant a stigma on the female race. + Those friends so late that used to Stella stray, + Now bend their courses far another way. + She mourns in privacy her honour flown, + And sighs to find illicit scenes are known. + These sorrowing truths I feelingly renew, + And know, oh guilty man! they rise from you. + Can all your wealth lost honour ever gain? + That, Sir, is scorn'd--it is the impious stain + You've brought on Stella, to the end of life, + And robs her all the comforts of a wife. + Abandon'd man you must atone for all, + Ere life is o'er on God for mercy call. + Your mind is harass'd by reflection's gale, + That oft to you its bitterness exhale: + Tempted by folly every scene pursue, + That dissipation can expose to view. + The softer pleasures that enrich the mind, + That learning dictates, from you lag behind; + Its cruel sport that bears a sov'reign sway, + To them and such like them you waste the day. + Know, Sir, that wealth an't given to us here, + To bring to infamy the British fair. + Too much, I fear, you wanton hours employ, + The needy woman daily to decoy. + Too many wantons now disgrace this Isle, + Whose bad example off the young beguile; + I hope that plans to stop them will increase, + And her that now is wretched rest in peace. + Your gen'rous family will ever gain, + Affection's tribute while we life retain: + Pure is the vine, except a leaf or two, + Soon they'll decay and be no more in view. + Disgrac'd, disown'd, to foreign lands they'll fly, + The censur'd objects of the Deity. + Wealth cannot stop the torrent of reproach, + Tho' screen'd from Britons by a gaudy coach; + Its inmate oft tho' clad in rich array, + Meets hoots and hisses as he rides away; + Till spleen, that canker of the human heart, + Makes him oft wish he could from life depart. + It is a scourge offended laws can't give, + The worst of torments whilst its object live; + Sometimes it stops our vices as they rise, + While chaster thoughts the wav'ing mind supplies. + Oft does a parent with paternal care, + His only Daughter with affection rear; + Soon as the time arrives his cares to pay, + A vile seducer takes his gem away;-- + Wafts her to infamy of every kind, + Then leaves the object with a tortur'd mind. + Still does her heart with pure affection burn, + Wish to a father's roof again to turn;-- + Just at that period--lucre tempts again, + And the weak vessel totters on the main: + She reels, she sinks, from chaste affections view, + To taste the draught of bitterness anew. + Some vile procuress with a demon's skill, + In a short period gains her to her will; + Till grown familiar to a harlot's life, + Quote inebriety to banish strife; + Becomes familiar to a vicious plan, + Adds to the charmers in the siren's den; + To liquor fly to banish thoughts of home, + And nightly forc'd for ways and means to roam. + Sweet health is banish'd and she finds too late, + Some dismal bridewell soon must be her fate; + All means are fled, the staff of life to gain, + To bridewell hurried with remorse and pain. + A pass is granted,--to her father sent, + Where she is foster'd from the element. + A tender parent kiss the long lost child, + Assures forgiveness tho' by grief turn'd wild. + Soon as the mind to calmer scenes invite, + He bless the hour that brought his lost to sight. + A scene like this came lately to my ear, + I know the parent and his worth revere. + Frequent do parents cause the great distress, + That on their daughters unexpected press. + The mother drains her pockets very low, + That Miss may make a gaudy flippant show; + To country balls she often bends her way, + And is allowed with cards and dice to play. + View but the manners of the modern belle, + And see if they don't levity foretell: + The bosom oft appears too much in view, + Sweet modesty is forc'd to bid adieu: + To her chaste dictates she cannot attend, + Indeed they do not deem her as a friend. + Mark how they roll their lively eyes about, + Just like her Ladyship when at a rout. + A piece of music next the parlour grace, + While vanity is striding on apace: + So swift she flies that almost time outrun; + By her manoeuvres oft the fair's undone; + Miss cannot look on any but a squire, + Or dress'd up coxcombs, only them admire; + An honest farmer's son they call a clown, + Likes none but puppies living in a town; + Such creatures, soon as wedded, only strive + How to jog on and keep the game alive: + Careless who suffers if they can but live, + Wanting still more than prudent parents give; + All wishes gratified,--in hopes that Miss + Will soon enjoy the matrimonial bliss. + A prudent living man is known to say, + For me such bawbles dress too fine and gay; + She'd squander money much against my will, + In paying milliner's enormous bill. + Such conduct in a parent may be wise, + Where good estates can all his wants supplies; + The ill effects that rise from such a plan, + Is were stern poverty assails the man. + Parents there are who often live this way, + Although two shillings in the pound can't pay. + Soon as their creditors do sharply press, + The lovely maidens feel extreme distress; + No lover then to sooth the drooping eye, + When poverty is seen from them they fly: + Unfit to baffle with the frowns of life, + And greatly more so for to be a wife. + Then does the wealthy Libertine succeed, + Furnish their pockets known to be in need; + Takes Miss from home to grace a chaise and pair, + While the unhappy parents nurse despair. + + + + +A LETTER FROM +_Miss Maria C***_, _to her Parents at_ + + + * * * * * + + My pen I take, my wretched fate to state, + Pardon, oh pardon, tho' a vile ingrate; + Your daughter late so innocent and gay, + Was by a vile seducer led astray + From those chase precepts by you taught to know, + That he who sets above knows all below; + Either on earth or in the heavenly skies, + Each substance falls or as he wishes rise. + I fell a victim to unchaste desires, + And feel those sorrows vengeance now requires, + After I left a parent's house and home, + Induced with wicked Henry to roam; + That sweet society my bosom knew, + From me that instant bade a long adieu. + Time, I much fear, will not that balm restore; + Its fled from me and will return no more. + I know that sweet compassion fills your mind, + And to forgiveness ever was inclin'd; + Take then your daughter to your arms again, + And she from latent vices will abstain. + With pious thoughts she'll pass the day away, + Till stern reproof is banish'd far away; + Too well I know that censure will appear, + In every mansion when Maria's there; + Soon as the vengeance of her sting is cast, + The scoffers arrogance no longer last; + Too true I know that woes I'm doom'd to bear, + The unfeeling frown the virgin's haughty sneer; + In time they'll vanish when its known I rove, + In virtue's path with innocence and love. + My prayers I'll offer to the throne on high, + And live as ordered by the Deity. + Lately I met my Mother's upper maid, + To ask her questions I was much afraid; + Yet ere I bade the honest girl adieu, + Nature compell'd me to inquire of you: + She said my mother fell a prey to grief, + And that no medicine could give relief; + In stating this a tear escaped her eye. + Return she cried, then heaved a tender sigh: + I will return and ere her spirits fled, + Press my lov'd mother on her couch or bed. + For pity's sake write me a line to say, + If I to you may speedy bend my way; + This boon is all I ask and now I crave, + A parent's blessing ere I meet the grave. + + [Picture: Divider] + + + + +To the Memory of +MR. PAGE, +LATE OF +_PULHAM MARKET_. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + My pen but faintly can declare, + The virtues of his mind; + Well he deserves the friendly tear, + From those he leaves behind. + + Dissimulation could not rest + A moment on his face, + No wicked thoughts annoy'd his breast, + Nor envy found a place. + + To friends and neighbours was sincere, + He cheerful pass'd the day; + His memory many will revere, + Till they are call'd away. + + Enough I cannot say of him, + The reason's very plain; + But few were so devoid of sin, + No better here remain. + + Quite well he knew the ways of life, + Performed one noble plan, + Avoiding things that brought or strife, + And justice did to man. + + His conversation sweetly pure, + For prudence led the way; + None but those he could endure, + Who would her strains obey. + + Once on a time by ills oppress'd, + I asked his friendly aid; + He lull'd my anxious mind to rest, + And sorrow quick dismayed. + + At Pulham market, left behind, + Those friends he did revere; + To every stranger they are kind + To friendship are sincere. + + No party spirit there can dwell, + A day within that place; + They bid her give a long farewell, + Nor dare to show her face. + + The humble tradesman can retire, + If pleasure leads his mind; + Beside the wealthy farmer's fire, + And gain attention kind. + + The labouring poor will seldom part, + From those that him employ; + Good usage animates the heart, + And bitter thoughts destroy. + + In the gay village all around, + A little cot you'll find, + Behind it is the garden ground, + To please the tenants' mind. + + Seldom is rais'd the tasker's cot, + Not often turn'd away; + No murmuring on his master's spot, + He cheerful him obey. + + The farmer's wife the poor supply, + With barm and milk beside, + To do them good each other vie, + To serve them is their pride. + + The humble and the wealthy sing + To Albion's long success; + Good news for England pleasure bring, + And adverse gales distress. + + Again on Page my humble strains, + With melancholy dwell; + To tell the grief and heart felt pains, + To bid a long farewell. + + It's gratitude that urge the pen, + It's friendship leads the way; + To speak the virtues of a man, + That death has call'd away. + + Oh may his spirit ever rest, + Beside the God of all, + And ever number'd with the blest, + Till he shall judge us all. + + Death brought no terrors to his heart, + For resignation staid, + Till from his life he should depart, + And lent her cheering aid. + + Oh God he cried I've no pretence, + To think election sure; + Cleanse, cleanse my soul, ere I go hence + And join me with the pure. + + + + +POLITICAL SURGEON. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + Tune--"The Exciseman." + + In a country village that's near, + A very good market for beef; + Thro' a lane a neat mansion appear, + Whose owner can give you relief. + + No one in the place doubts his skill, + Due attention he pays to the poor, + To them he'll diminish his bill; + If adversity stands at the door. + + I fear he brain fevers increase, + To those that are fond of the state, + To upbraid it he seldom will cease, + And will its mishaps glad relate. + + To men that are loyal and brave; + Such stuff will but faintly go down, + All judge it the trick of a knave, + That endeavour to harass the crown. + + When first to the village he went; + All pensions and placemen were bad, + Of doctrine so foul he's relent, + By vanity's rays he's misled. + + When a man is well known to be poor, + Such gammon he'll cram in your ear, + Yet when the wolf's fled from his door, + He a different thing will appear. + + The time that I stated 'twas thought, + He scarcely could raise half a crown, + And some people say not a groat, + Till a lady arrived in the town. + + But soon he found money in hand, + Enough for to purchase a farm, + Of two hundred acres of land, + Which did all his cravings disarm. + + He attended me once to ease pain; + I found him a man very wise; + Awhile would my patience detain; + To tell me the stocks could not rise. + + He said that the state was so poor, + A bankrupt it soon would be found, + I told him to state it no more + His noddle I feared was unsound. + + The camelion its colours oft change, + And so can the doctor his plan, + To loyalty's converse can range, + To suit any very rich man. + + With the ladies he neatly can toy, + I mean quite by decency's rule; + Yet his nonsense the wiser annoy, + Of sagacity's plan but a tool. + + A more sober man cannot be, + For water is chief of his drink; + He is very well liked on by me, + I'm always for purple and pink. + + + + +CHEERFUL ISAAC. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + Tune--"The Wedding Day." + + Isaac lives in a cottage near the road side, + He envies not Princes or Kings, + Unacquainted with splendor no lover of pride, + He says it oft poverty brings. + + Trudges all day with his plough void of care, + At eve to the village he flies, + In hopes a good ditty or story to hear; + For those all his wishes supplies. + + Sometimes his noddle so dizzy is grown, + That he cannot exact his path find; + Yet Isaac is nettled whenever tis known, + Slaves to old Bacchus go blind. + + True friendship he loves and friendly to all, + That dame fortune e'er send to his door; + With a glass of strong ale welcome them all, + Tho' it be from the labouring poor. + + His wife is at all times as anxious to send, + Her boon were distress points the way; + To the needy she is daily a friend, + Her efforts oft poverty stay. + + They trudge on united unblemished by art, + She delights in the dairy and cow; + From the first dawn of morn till phoebus depart, + While Isaac's engaged with the plough. + + No worthier couple dwell far around, + Good nature in them can be seen; + In their happy retreat mirth wide abound, + Unknown to ill nature or spleen. + + May Isaac and many that live near the town, + This Christmas most cheerfully meet; + To chat o'er a glass at the Falcon or Crown, + Join'd by others that at dwell in the street. + + Both Landlords endeavour strangers to please, + By keeping of liquors the best; + With very soft beds that you may lay at ease, + When disposed to adjourn for to rest. + + At Pulham Market, this motto remain, + Let us always be merry thro' life, + Drink success to our King again and again, + To banish dull care pain and strife. + + + + +To the Memory of +MR. SELF, +LATE OF +_PULHAM MARKET HALL_. + + + The tear of regret was observed all around, + When our neighbour and friend was consigned to the ground; + If penury hung round the Cottager's door, + He ne'er would forget to remember the poor. + So cheerful in converse you always would find, + Neither spleen or ill nature could harass his mind; + Till age made its inroads he'd join with the gay, + At manly amusements to gladden the day. + In most friendly meetings for him they would call, + For I can say with truth he was liked by us all; + Good news for his country would him much pleasure bring, + For no subject in Britain rever'd more his King. + His conduct and actions would plainly foretell, + As a husband or parent but few did excel. + He was always a friend to the labouring poor, + To serve them at all times no one could strive more. + In all parish concerns he was found to be just, + And ne'er was the man that dishonoured his trust, + May the Angel that note all our errors above, + Blot out our lov'd friends thro' angelical love: + May his spirit be numbered with those of the blest, + The moment grim death planted darts in his breast. + May his Children be strangers to every strife, + That too frequent attend many mortals thro' life; + And when it shall choose the Almighty to call + Them from earthly troubles may he pardon them all. + + + + +THE VALIANT CAPTAIN. + + + * * * * * + + Tune.--"Derry Down." + + This night I am trying a picture to draw, + Whom you know very well is a son of the law; + A wonder of wonders, he will not drive the quill, + To injure another, or make a bad will. + + To increase a dispute he begs leave to decline, + And will settle such things o'er a glass of good wine; + When 'twas said we soon should be invaded by France, + Oh dear how he made his gay pony quick dance. + + I fear 'twould be found he would be in the rear, + If the time was to come that their armies were near; + And was they on Albion's shore to arrive, + The shock would be such that he could not survive. + + As Hudibras says, he this notion retain, + He that quick runs away may perhaps fight again; + On Sundays he brought his brave men to our view, + But some people say they no fighting e'er knew. + + Had such been the case I will answer to say, + But those very brave valiants would soon run away; + Give them plumb pudding and plenty of beef, + And alone on the ground would be found the grand Chief. + + Show him but a bottle of excellent wine, + And I'd warrant to say he'd the contest decline; + If talking would do he would frighten them all, + But I don't think he'd like to see powder or ball, + + Come whistling near to his brain-pan or heart; + From such trying scenes he would gladly depart; + As a neighbour he's worthy the village esteem, + May he ne'er want a bottle nor I a good theme. + + [Picture: Divider] + + + + +OLD JACK.--A SONG. + + + Tune.--"The Exciseman". + + Not far from the village you'll see, + A snug little mansion appear, + As pleasant I think as can be, + To divert all its inmates from care. + + It's embellish'd with pebbles and glass, + Which in buildings is rare to be seen; + To enliven the eye as you pass, + In the front is a very neat green. + + One side there a clump of fir trees, + The other a garden with fruit, + With flowerets the ladies to please, + And a jasmine tree into boot. + + A paddock adjoins the loved spot, + Another thing more you'll denote; + For work-men a very neat cot, + With a very good round little moat. + + At the end of the cottage oft lay, + The black little scot on the straw; + On whom do old Jack in the day + At times lay his delicate paw. + + I dare not almost for my life, + Tell Jack what I really do think; + That the scot he likes well as his wife, + Except it is strong beer to drink. + + But old Jack he is getting quite old, + Was always a good natured man; + You could not allure him by gold, + To act in a dishonest plan. + + Few dare the old man to oppose, + Be him ever so much in the wrong, + For many he takes by the nose, {20} + Be they ever so stout or so strong. + + He envies not those in fine gigs, + His mind he keeps constant at ease, + Pass his time with the bullocks and pigs, + And his master most commonly please. + + May the master and man live as long, + As comforts on earth can be found; + Then be join'd to the heavenly throng, + Where angelical pleasures abound. + + + + +ON THE DEATH +OF +_BEN GEE_. + + + [Picture: Divider] + + Alas, the dull bell his departure declares, + His wife and poor children are shedding those tears + That flows from sincerity's bosom of grief, + Scarce can old time give a lapse from relief. + The widow to ease or the orphan protect, + He would never a minute in friendship neglect; + Sometimes ungrateful they each of them prov'd, + At tales of affliction his bosom was moved. + How cheerful he'd set tho' hard blew the gale, + Amusing his friends with a voyager's tale. + Ill nature did never his features deform, + His hopes were thro' life to weather the storm. + Sometimes fickle fortune to him would prove kind, + Then he'd furl up his sails for a respite to mind; + When the mishaps of life to his bosom gave pain, + He would boldly embark on the ocean again; + In hopes that hereafter more lucky to be, + He would venture his all to the boisterous sea. + To a gloomy prison, with numbers hard press'd, + Oft thought of his home was greatly distress'd; + Yet the moment the tears of affliction was o'er, + Cherish'd a hope for to see them once more. + Return'd and no language those joys can impart, + When he press'd with affection his wife to his heart; + His children all gladden'd their Father to see, + Some hung round his neck, while some press'd his knee. + Pure friendship then enter'd their old friend to greet, + And happy was many, the sailor to meet. + They cried, your long absence have given us pain, + But thank God in safety we see you again. + 'T was the last trip he made, pale sickness o'er-spread + The cheek once so rosy, and forced to his bed, + A Man that ne'er harbour'd a thought in his breast + To injure another or rob him of rest. + With calmness he cried, wife and children adieu, + My feelings foretel me I'm not long with you. + GOD fix my departure, and his will be done, + Lay me close by my house when my hour glass is run. + Complied were his wishes, for near is the grave, + Where Lieth the Body of BEN GEE the Brave. + + + + +ELEGY +ON THE DEATHS OF +_MR. BEALE AND HIS DAUGHTER_. + + + Late of Herts. + + My Friends are fled from mortal eye, + God sent the just decree; + Let us submit to him on high, + Who made the Earth and Sea. + + I hear again that death has paid, + A second visit where, + Lately dwelt a virtuous maid, + And parent's tender care. + + Dear Madam, let your troubled, breast, + This Earthly comfort find; + God alone can lull to rest + The widow's downcast mind. + + Late did your worthy partner say, + From death no one can flee; + Ere many months are pass'd away, + Our Nancy rests by me. + + Clos'd in that spot from public view, + I've pointed out the grave; + Let pious thoughts stern grief subdue, + Jesus repentants save. + + Adieu! he cried to all around, + That stood beside his bed; + Sweet mercies to us will abound, + If we by grace are led. + + We know that our redeemer live, + Beside the God of all; + Who will our errors all forgive, + If we sincerely call. + + Death came mantling on his brow, + With firmness still he prayed; + O God, on sinners mercy show, + Ere in the grave we're laid. + + His wife and children now deplore + Their loss with many a sigh, + And so does many labouring poor, + With many a weeping eye. + + Truly he did assistance lend, + To those that stood in need, + The orphan in him found a friend, + A constant one indeed. + + _FINIS_. + + * * * * * + + Walker, Printer, near the Duke's Palace, Norwich. + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{20} Jack at times shaves his brother workmen. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ADDRESS TO A WEALTHY LIBERTINE*** + + +******* This file should be named 33456.txt or 33456.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/3/4/5/33456 + + + +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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