Belinda felt for his distress,
She heav'd a sigh and shook her head;
Then to this aged son of woe
Stretch'd forth a—crust of mouldy bread.
Amer. Universal Mag., I-28, Jan. 2, 1797, Phila.
[C. F. Gellert, Die Gutthat.]
PRO PATRIA MORI
From the German of Bürger.
For virtue, freedom, human rights, to fall,
Beseems the brave: it is a Saviour's death.
Of heroes only the most pure of all,
Thus with their heart's blood tinge the battle-heath.
And this proud death is seemliest in the man
Who for a kindred race, a country bleeds:
Three hundred Spartans from the shining van
Of those, whom fame in this high triumph leads.
Great is the death for a good prince incurr'd;
Who wields the sceptre with benignant hand:
Well may for him the noble bare his sword,
Falling he earns the blessings of a land.
Death for a friend, parent, child, or her we love,
If not so great, is beauteous to behold:
This the fine tumults of the hearts approve;
It is the walk to death unbought of gold.
But for mere majesty to meet a wound—
Who holds that great or glorious, he mistakes:
That is the fury of the pamper'd hound,
Which envy, anger, or the whip, awakes.