Classic Poem

A PRIZE PIERCE .

My slender shape of polished steel, behold,
Of far more value than the purest gold:
My point is sharpen'd with the nicest art,
And judgment fashions out my every part.
A case of speckled tortoise, oft' I wear,
And oft' a shield of pearl, or silver bear;
Thus, kept from damp and injury, at command
I'm ever ready for the skilful hand.
In skilful hands, the Lancet's wonderous use
The best effects will cause, and greatest good produce.

The Lancet! whisper'd some, amidst the throng;
A subject novel to the poet's song...
Perhaps it may...yet not the less its claim
To fair renown, and well deserved fame;
For what produces aught that's good or fair,
Is not beneath the muse's powers and care.

If health to give, and often life to save;
If rescuing worth and talents from the grave;
If to preserve of beauty's charms the bloom,
And save belov'd connexions from the tomb;
If to restore the matron, long ador'd,
Back to the arms of her exulting lord,
Back to that infant race, whose pious care,
It was to render wise, discreet, and fair;
If lovers to each other to restore,
And friends unite, who thought to meet no more;
If deeds like these deserve a glorious name,
The Lancet ought, and long shall live to fame.

Hence mark, on causes small how much depends,
How trivial matters point important ends:
The oak that bears our thunder o'er the main,
That half the wealth of Europe doth sustain,
Was once a little acorn and no more,
Though now it rounds the world, and visits every shore,
Hence mark, how man by circumstance is rul'd,
How oft' we see him rich, or wise, or fool'd,
How frequently he's splendid, learn'd, or poor,
By the mere way of passing by a door;
How frequently the entering of a room
Will fix in life and death his varied doom.
Thus the least incidents create man's fate,
And give him worth or talent, love or hate;
Make him a grovelling wretch to darkness hurl'd,
Or lift him up to an admiring world.

Thus, tho' so small the Lancet's point we see,
The fate of millions on that point may be;
Impell'd by it, empires may rise or fall,
Peace her best blessings give, or war distract the ball.

From hence 'tis clear, to watch with nice regard
Each small event, will bring its own reward;
Each little circumstance, with care to trace,
May lead from misery, disease, disgrace;
And courteous and kind to be, in small affairs,
May lead from private ills, and public jars.

'Tis true some pain the Lancet's point bestows,
But blessings often tread the heel of woes;
Oft' out of trials, benefits arise,
And scenes of misery oft' make men wise.
" Adversity's sweet use " our S HAKSPEARE sung,
(And truths eternal, dwelt on S HAKSPEARE'S tongue)
In his bright page with highest wisdom fraught,
Each mental grace is most sublimely taught;...
But what of aught that's grand, or wise, or gay,
Beams not from S HAKSPEARE'S ever charming lay!

Thus hath in humble verse, the lowly muse,
Sung of the Lancet's various power and use;
And ardent wishes the surrounding throng,
Who kindly listen to her youthful song,
May never know its sharp and poignant touch,
Too deeply wound, or waken pain too much;
But that to them its punctures still may prove,
The source of health and beauty, joy and love.