AN INVOCATION TO POVERTY.
BY CHARLES JAMES FOX, ESQ.
Oh, Poverty! of pale, consumptive hue,
If thou delight'st to haunt me still in view;
If still thy presence must my steps attend,
At least continue as thou art—my friend!
Whene'er example bids me be unjust,
False to my word—or faithless to my trust;
Bid me the baneful error quickly see,
And shun the world, to find repose in thee:
When vice to wealth would turn my partial eye,
Or interest shut my ear to sorrow's cry,
Or courtiers' custom would my reason bend,
My foe to flatter—or desert my friend;
Oppose, kind Poverty, thy tempered shield,
And bear me off unvanquished from the field.
If giddy Fortune e'er return again,
With all her idle, restless, wanton train;
Her magic glass should false Ambition hold;
Or Avarice bid me put my trust in gold;
To my relief, thou virtuous goddess, haste,
And with thee bring thy daughters ever chaste,
Health! Liberty! and Wisdom! Sisters bright!
Whose charms can make the worst condition light,
Beneath the hardest fate the mind can cheer,
Can heal Affliction, and disarm Despair!
In chains, in torments, Pleasure can bequeath,
And dress in smiles the tyrant hour of Death!