POEMS.
101
'Tis his, to life when trembling Wretches cling,
Whose worldly guilt despairs of heavenly bliss,
With fatal breath the untimely shaft to wing,
And drive them shuddering down the dread abyss:
Whose worldly guilt despairs of heavenly bliss,
With fatal breath the untimely shaft to wing,
And drive them shuddering down the dread abyss:
'Tis his, to hear Contrition plead in vain,
To crush the last poor hope on Mercy built,
Yet still each sigh suppress, each tear restrain,
For grief is weakness, when to spare were guilt.
To crush the last poor hope on Mercy built,
Yet still each sigh suppress, each tear restrain,
For grief is weakness, when to spare were guilt.
Lo! for her culprit-husband kneels a Wife!
Hark! for a Child a Father pours his prayer!
But Justice claims the Felon's forfeit life,
And though He can, the Monarch must not spare.
Hark! for a Child a Father pours his prayer!
But Justice claims the Felon's forfeit life,
And though He can, the Monarch must not spare.
He signs the bond of blood with pain severe;
But does not Friendship then allay the smart?
Lends She not, while He mourns her gracious ear?
Heals not her sympathy his wounded heart?
But does not Friendship then allay the smart?
Lends She not, while He mourns her gracious ear?
Heals not her sympathy his wounded heart?
Alas! No Friend has He!—No tear He finds
Mix with the stream, which from his eye-lid rolls:
He knows no intercourse of equal minds,
No kind expansion of congenial souls.
Mix with the stream, which from his eye-lid rolls:
He knows no intercourse of equal minds,
No kind expansion of congenial souls.
