An elegy, addressed to a lady, who was affected at seeing the funeral of a namelesss pauper, buried at the expence of the parish, in the church-yard at Brighthelmstone, in November 1792 Swells then thy feeling heart, and streams thine eye O'er the deserted being, poor and old, Whom cold, reluctant, Parish Charity Consigns to mingle with his kindred mold? Mourn'st thou, that here the time-worn sufferer ends Those evil days still threatening woes to come; Here, where the friendless feel no want of friends, Where even the houseless wanderer finds an home? What tho' no kindred croud in sable forth, And sigh, or seem to sigh, around his bier; Tho' o'er his coffin with the humid earth No children drop the unavailing tear? Rather rejoice that here his sorrows cease, Whom sickness, age, and poverty oppress'd; Where Death, the Leveller, restores to peace The wretch who living knew not where to rest. Rejoice, that tho' an outcast spurn'd by Fate, Thro' penury's rugged path his race he ran; In earth's cold bosom, equall'd with the great, Death vindicates the insulted rights of Man. Rejoice, that tho' severe his earthly doom, And rude, and sown with thorns the way he trod, Now, (where unfeeling Fortune cannot come) He rests upon the mercies of his GOD. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETRAYAL by HESTER H. CHOLMONDELEY MY LADY'S PLEASURE by ROBERT GRAHAM THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) SOMETIME by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH ON THE THRESHOLD by ASTLEY H. BALDWIN SHE WOULD NOT KNOW ME by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIORGIONE: GEMMA'S SPRING SONG by GORDON BOTTOMLEY EVENING SOLACE by CHARLOTTE BRONTE SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 34 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |