Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/98

Successless oft their industry, -when cease
The loom and shuttle in the troubled streets ;
Their motion stopp'd by wild Intemperance,
Toil's scoffing foe, who lures the giddy rout 230
To scorn their task-work, and to vagrant life
Turns their rude steps, while Misery, among
The cries of infants, haunts their mould'ring huts.
O when, thro' every province, shall be rais'd
Houses of labour, seats of kind constraint, 235
For those who now delight in fruitless sports
More than in cheerful works of virtuous trade,
Which honest wealth would yield, and portion due
Of public welfare ? Ho, ye Poor ! who seek,
Among the dwellings of the diligent, 240
For sustenance unearn'd ; who stroll abroad
From house to house, with mischievous intent,
Feigning misfortune : Ho, ye Lame ! ye Blind !
Ye languid limbs, with real want oppress'd,
Who tread the rough highways, and mountains wild, 245
Thro' storms, and rains, and bitterness of heart ;
Ye children of Affliction ! be compell'd
To happiness : the long-wish'd daylight dawns,
When charitable Rigour shall detain
Your step-bruis'd feet. Ev'n now the sons of Trade, 250
Where'er their cultivated hamlets smile,
Erect the mansion ; here soft Fleeces shine ;
The card awaits you, and the comb and wheel :
Here shroud you from the thunder of the storm ;
No rain shall wet your pillow : here abounds 255
Pure beverage : here your viands are prepar'd :
To heal each sickness the physician waits,
And priest entreats to give your Maker praise.