This wretch, who, dying, would not take one pill,
If, living, he must pay a doctor's bill,
Still clings to life, of every joy bereft;
His God is gold, and his religion theft!
And, as of yore, when modern vice was strange,
Could leathern money current pass on 'change,
His reptile soul, whose reasoning powers are pent
Within the logic bounds of cent per cent,
Would sooner coin his ears than stocks should fall,
And cheat the pillory, than not cheat at all!
* * * * *
=_John Blair Linn,[78] 1777-1804._=
From "The Powers of Genius."
=_323._= WRETCHEDNESS OF SAVAGE LIFE.
The human fabric early from its birth,
Feels some fond influence from its parent earth;
In different regions different forms we trace,
Here dwells a feeble, there an iron race;
Here genius lives, and wakeful fancies play,
Here noiseless stupor sleeps its life away.
* * * * *
Chill through his trackless pines the hunter passed,
His yell arose upon the howling blast;
Before him fled, with all the speed of fear,
His wealth--and victim, yonder helpless deer.
Saw you the savage man, how fell and wild,
With what grim pleasure, as he passed, he smiled?
Unhappy man! a wretched wigwam's shed
Is his poor shelter, some dry skins his bed;
Sometimes alone upon the woodless height
He strikes his fire, and spends his watchful night;
His dog with howling bays the moon's red beam,
And starts the wild deer in his nightly dream.
Pages:
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607