EPITAPH TO THE ABOVE.
Faithful in friendship kind to all,
The needy poor around;
And those who gave a friendly call,
A hearty welcome found.
Deceit ne’er harbour’d in his breast,
Or flattery in his mind;
From troubles here he surely rest,
And hope forgiveness find.
the
INJURED to the INJURER.
You vilest of the human race,
A traitorous fiend with double face;
A fawning sycophant from youth,
Who never spoke a word of truth:
Who shed thy tears like crocodile;
Apparent virtue prov’d all vile:
You ask’d for cash the other day;
And for your coach hire home to pay.
Poor needy wretch I lent you gold,
You in return my credit sold:
But vile ingrate, the world shall know,
You’ve prov’d my base ungenerous foe.
From watchmen who protect the laws,
Did I not screen you from their paws;
Said that at home I soon should be,
Soon as arriv’d you came to me.
Said that you wanted forty pounds,
You stamp’d, and swore, and struck the ground.
Tho’ press’d myself I lent it you,
With blessings on me bade adieu:
’Twas Sunday night that we did part,
I thought ’twas with an honest heart;
You said my brothers here would be,
To lend me aid and set me free:
Instead of brothers, bailiffs came
To caption me and hurt my name.
They had a writ from Mr Blake,
My body into prison take;
Vile wretch you’ll have the public scorn,
To curse the day that you were born:
I’ll publish to the world your knavery,
And write my name the injur’d, Savory.
Interest leads mankind to stray,
From honesty both night and day;
When fortune smiles, friends we do meet,
That greet us kindly in the street;
But when they see us in distress,
You’ll frequent find their number less.
Too well I know this to be true,
And worthy neighbours so do you;
When you can spend a pound-note free,
A clever fellow you will be;
But when your purse is empty grown,
Those compliments from you are flown;
Its not dear sir I wish to see,
You at my house to dine and tea;
Do but just say you’ll to them roam,
They’ll say they cannot be at home.
on the death
of
LORD NELSON.
The fleets 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, ere he flew, he did enquire,
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,
Inploring 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 beautious 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.
TRUTH.
The unsuspecting often meet deceit,
By fawning wretches that would kiss their feet;
Such is the case, that man to man you’ll see,
Would for a shilling a curs’d traitor be.
Too well I know by sad experience bought,
Man have by artful means my ruin sought;
And would have plung’d me in extreme distress,
To gain their aims, or make their troubles less.
Mankind sometimes will act a knavish part,
And unexpected use deceit and art.
The world is grown so fond of getting cash,
That for its sake they’ll do what’s base or rash:
Will make him drunk to gain a neighbour’s wife,
Forge a last will, or take away his life:
A rape commit and laws avenge defy,
Flog a poor boy, or tell a flagrant lye:
Oft have I seen a poor and friendless child,
Flog’d near to death and made by torments wild;
For faults so small that blame you cou’d not see,
Nor cou’d his Master mention them to me;
When I the monster did upbraid, he swore
Another time he’d give him ten times more.
Scenes such as these too often do appear,
And pity ’tis some punishments severe,
Was not inflicted on the sordid elf,
Either by hanging, or the loss of wealth.
BETSY’S TEARS,
a song.
Oh Betsy hide that starting tear,
That fain would speak distress;
A cherub’s aid will soon appear,
And make your sufferings less.
You say no pity you can crave,
For misery here below;
Then rest your hopes beyond the grave,
Where God great mercy show.
To every damsel in distress,
If penitents they prove;
He quickly make their sorrows less,
And send again his love.
The villian that betray’d in youth,
An artless maid astray;
Was stranger to the love of truth,
Or what the scriptures say.
An earthly guardian he was made,
By him that is no more;
He’ll find chastisement’s sharpen’d blade,
On him torments pour.
No retribution he can make,
While on this earth he crawls;
God will speedy vengance take,
When he the reptile calls.
THE REPROACH.
Canst thou see my wasted frame,
And hear aloud sad Betsy’s name,
And still unmov’d remain;
Yes, thou canst hear it every day,
And to it oft attention pay:
Without a sigh or pain.
But when ye do in heaven appear,
My Father’s spirit will be there;
And hear thy awful doom.
Thy soul will then tormented be,
For dealing so unjust with me;
Who wither’d ere my bloom.
When virtuous souls are with the blest,
Thy guilty shade will find no rest;
But hurl’d to endless pain,
Were wicked man is made to know,
That Satan dealt the painful blow;
And will torment again.
No wealth can lull to rest my fears,
Or time dry up my falling tears;
Till I from life am flown:
Then do I hope once more to see,
My parents both along with me;
And they their Betsy own.
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 knew 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 number’d with the dead:
Oblivion’s aid I oft invok’d 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 SEEING AN AMIABLE WOMAN
DISTRESSED IN MIND.
Oh gracious God, her peace restore,
And make her sufferings less;
Let frenzied thoughts disturb no more,
Or sorrow on her press.
Pour down thy blessings, on a mind
Encompass’d round by grief;
Let fortune smile and friends be kind,
To nature grant relief.
’Twas pure affection caus’d her tears,
And furrow’d beauty’s face;
But thou can lull to rest her fears,
By thy almighty grace.
May guardian angels plant their seat,
Beside the lovely fair;
While hope and comfort frequent meet,
To keep her from despair.
Tranquillity thou dove-ey’d maid,
A visit quickly pay;
Of virtue’s self, be not afraid,
Stay with her all the day.
A MOTHER’S ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.
Accept oh Lord! a mother’s prayer,
And shield my child from sickness here;
May Judah, ever constant prove
Herself deserving of thy love:
Sweet Robert in this vale of tears,
Survived with me three sickening years,
Before it was thy will to say,
He shall the debt of nature pay:
On lov’d Maria now I dwell,
My grief for her no pen can tell;
To spare a mother’s pangs she flew,
To thee, ere I cou’d say adieu!
The babe was not a year with me,
Ere angels wafted her to thee:
For Charlotte’s life, oh Lord! I pray,
And Robert’s too both night and day;
Should it be thy will to call
Them from my sight, I pray, that all
My children may obtain a rest,
Were souls are number’d with the blest.
Henry a mother’s last delight,
Improve O Lord, his health and sight,
That quick I find his strength increase,
My thanks to thee, shall never cease.
on seeing a young nobleman
IMPRISONED FOR DEBT.
The victim of sorrow with gloom on his mind,
Sighs for those pleasures he late left behind;
The bottle, the play-house, card-room and ball,
And the fine guilded chariot kept at the hall;
Enjoy’d but at night in dreams mix’d with sorrow,
That leaves the imprudent as hopeless to morrow.
With anguish he views his now alter’d state,
Laments his past folly but finds it too late;
His bottle companions in assistance will fail,
Soon as they hear he is plac’d in a jail:
Fair economy’s rules he brings to his view,
Determines in future her plans to pursue;
The downfal of life, oft the delicate kill,
By a strong dose of adversity’s pill;
Neglected in prison, yields up his life,
And leaves in despair his children and wife;
Oblig’d to return to her father’s once more,
Endeavours again her peace to restore;
Grief so harress’d once a heart blith and gay,
Death soon appear’d and took her quick away.
LIFE.
When e’er you walk the hill or street,
A flaunting dressing thing you’ll meet;
Her wanton air would fain beguile,
A thoughtless youth to stray awhile:
Her conversation gross he’ll find,
Chaste modesty she leaves behind;
That Goddess seldom now appear,
Where people walk to take the air.
She daily must in Laces dress,
Altho’ her parents in distress:
She’ll get them any way she can,
To marry some unthinking man.
When he the flaunter do obtain,
On pleasure’s wings she fix her brain;
His shirts or stockings she can’t mend,
But must them to a neighbour send;
And tells her husband, he must stray
With her to see a merry play.
He must comply, or else he’ll find
She teazes much his gloomy mind;
Often she does the man reproach,
Because he cannot keep a Coach:
Tells him she cannot rest at home,
And do with finer people roam;
The husband now alarm’d appears,
Too just his reason for his fears:
Truth silence now his sad alarms,
She’s fled into another’s arms.
Parents oft cause a girl’s distress,
By letting her devote to dress;
Time which they should frequent spend,
At house-work, or their clothes to mend:
A watch must now adorn the side,
To fill their minds with erring pride;
Tells her that every fop admire,
And soon she’ll gain a Country squire;
Again I say a boarding school,
Too often makes sweet Miss a fool;
Put such strange notions in her brain,
As she cannot good sense retain:
When Miss is taken from the school,
She wants in every thing to rule;
There she perhaps may learn to dance,
Alike the paltry things from France:
This plain truth I dare to tell,
But few from them correctly spell;
Too often write so bad a hand,
That scarce one line you understand;
Their education often makes,
Them only fit for lords or rakes.
To Miss and schools I bid adieu,
And will another tale pursue.
Many a tradesman in this place,
Brings on themselves their own disgrace;
Politics engross their mind,
And cause their friends to be unkind:
The horns anounce the papers in,
His daily pleasures now begin;
Two hours are wasted in this day,
Which time he should to business pay;
Customers too frequent call,
And cannot see the man at all:
Each one declares he’ll call no more,
As he had been there oft before.
No wonder that he cannot pay,
As thus he trifles time away:
We often do our fate bewail,
When adverse gales do us assail;
The money that we waste away,
Frequent we should to others pay;
Careless of our neighbours grief,
We only seek our own relief;
The cause we have such dismal times,
Is chiefly owing to our crimes.
The pipe and bottle frequent stay,
The man who should attention pay;
To business, or to any thing
Which may perhaps a profit bring;
Insteads of wine, drink humble ale,
Drop fine gigs thus ends my tale.
ON SEEING COLOURS CONSECRATED:
PRESENTED BY MRS. BERKLEY.
Berkley, the female champion of our cause,
While gratitude exists demands applause;
The morn was fine and pleasant was the scene,
The sons of Briton met on Writtle green:
To church repair’d with fervency and grace,
And loyalty appear’d on every face;
Prayers were read with energy and truth,
To give instructions to the British youth;
The same good order then was plainly seen,
When they return’d advancing to the green:
The line was form’d and music now begins,
To offer praises to the best of kings;
The Captain with due modesty and grace,
Marches the ensigns to their proper place.
With manners pleasing and with accents just,
The worthy fair one yields the sacred trust;
Speaks of their duty in the hour of strife,
Never to yield those colours but with life:
With manliness the Captain quick replies,
No man will yield them! madam, till he dies;
Ensigns receiv’d them from the Captain’s hand,
May God protect them ever in this land.
FINIS.
lane and walker, printers.