Classic Poem

Let not my Friend lament her hapless Fate,
Prone is the World to aggravate our Pain — —
The Rage of puny Malice will abate,
If vanquish'd by the Weapons of Disdain.

Why shoud the Breast of Innocence repine?
Tho' threat'ning Clouds thy sweet Serene desorm,
Thou, who art shelter'd by a Pow'r Divine,
May'st brave the Thunder, or the bursting Storm.

Few but have felt the Sting of Envy's Tongue,
" He that woud free from Malice spend his Days,
(Thus Pope in envy'd Harmony has sung)
" Must live obscure, and never merit Praise, "

Nature first form'd thee with each winning Grace,
With Charms might vie with Beauty's fanci'd Queen;
Stampt a vermilion Tint upon thy Face,
And blest thee with a Dignity of Mien.

Thy Mind, like Eden's cultivated Ground,
Was blooming, and estrang'd to Thorns of Strife,
Where Innocence diffus'd its Sweets around,
And Virtue flourish'd like the Tree of Life .

A numerous Offspring, and a plenteous Store,
The liberal Hand of Providence had giv'n,
Nor did thy sober Wishes crave for more,
Pleas'd with the Bounty of indulgent Heav'n.

In these soft Hours no Thought presag'd a Fall,
But smiling Union lessen'd every Care,
Smooth flow'd thy Comforts unallay'd with Gall,
Nor had thy Bosom ever known Despair.

How happy then thro' verdant Meads to stray!
Where rove the Heifers, and the milky Kine,
Where snowy Flocks in frisky Gambols play,
Tho' pure, and guiltless are their Lives like thine.

In early Dawn how sedulous to rise! — —
Prudent, and active for thy houshold Weal,
Ere Sol had stream'd his Saffron through the Skies,
Or the sweet Lark had rung her matin Peal.

But now immur'd within the Walls of Grief,
Nature is sad, and mute the Voice of Joy:
No wonted Task affords a kind Relief
To stop the Tear, or dissipate the Sigh.

When late I saw thee in meridian Bliss,
One lovely Babe was dandling on thy Knee,
Another wishful climbing for the Kiss — —
— — The pleasing Types of Happiness, and thee!

Ah! cease, ye scornful, when the Hand of Time
These Babes to full Maturity shall rear,
To wound their Peace with th' imputed Crime,
Or throw the baleful Arrow of a Sneer.

Methinks I hear thee in that happy Day,
Pour forth the Dictates of a Mother's Heart;
This pious Lesson to their Minds convey,
And every Wish of Tenderness impart.

" May you, my Boys, from Jealousy be free,
" That dread Allay to all the Sweets of Life!
" And you, my Daughters, never feel like me,
" The piercing Anguish of domestic Strife.

" Woud you, my Children, taste a Bliss sincere,
" Let calm Discretion ever be obey'd;
" Let Reason drop Instruction in your Ear,
" And Virtue's monitory Voice persuade.

" Think that not all the Riches of the East,
" Can give Content, if once Content is lost — —
" Nor can the World give Pleasure to the Breast,
" If for the World, your Conscience is the Cost.

— — Alas! how wretched is poor Woman's Fate!
Tho' born to soften, and divide our Woe,
Some Danger threatens her in every State,
In every State poor Woman has a Foe.

Amidst the Triumphs of her virgin Years,
When lur'd by Pleasure, and her syren Song,
How oft alarm'd with palpitating Fears!
How oft betray'd by Flattery's oily Tongue!

When fixt, and wedded to a specious Friend,
Each lucid Hope with Ecstacy is crown'd,
Till he, whom Heav'n appointed to defend,
Is first to menace, and is first to wound.

Oh Jealousy! — thou Foe of deadliest Bane! —
Thou to thyself dost Miseries impart,
And, like the Miser, feel a keener Pain,
The greater is the Treasure of thy Heart.

'Tis thine, like Darkness with Aurora's Light,
To hold no Commerce with the Cherub-Peace,
To check the Fancy in her harmless Flight,
And bid the Joys of native Freedom cease.

Forbear to ken the Motion of the Eyes,
Forbear to watch the softly dimpling Smile;
Think not that Treachery in Ambush lies,
Or that the Features wear the Mask of Guile.

Fallacious oft the Judgment of the Sight! —
Here it is weak — imperfect — and confin'd,
And H E alone, that dwells in endless Light,
Can trace the dark Recesses of the Mind.

The truly virtuous — who to Heav'n are dear —
Who feel no Achs, or boding Fears within,
Are mindless oft how outward Deeds appear,
And Chearfulness is branded for a Sin;

Assur'd their Bosom is a sacred Court,
Where when aggriev'd they ever may appeal;
And when oppress'd can find a sure Support,
If Conscience gives the Sanction of her Seal.

Here fixing then the Anchor of thy Trust,
Leave it to Heav'n to mitigate thy Care;
Heav'n ever looks with Favor on the just,
And lifts them from the Horrors of Despair.