The way weary traveller, to shorten the mile, Sometimes has occasion to go by the style; The gain that he gets, his spirit revives, He cuts off an elbow, and sooner arrives.
Through one of his fields the pathway doth lie, And very few 'scap'd the dint of his eye.
The gate as it opens and creaks, seems to say, 'Pass stranger, and welcome'-"The Miser's away!"
In his ancient old Intake, long kept without fence, And without cultivation, for fear of expence, By the plough, or the spade, the rough is made plain, And the hopeful young husbandman scatters the grain.
Where the bones of the gimmer decay'd on the ground, And nettles and briars were every where found, Fine corn is now growing, all smiling and gay; It had not been so, but-"The Miser's away!"
The birds haste away to the green holly bush, The blackbird now tries to outrival the thrush; They tip the tall branches on fluttering wing, Make nearer approaches, and merrily sing.
The flowers in the garden around the bee-hive, With unwonted freshness begin to revive, To each new beholder their beauties display, And whisper in perfume-"The Miser's away!"
Here among his old books his Sabbaths he spent, On logic and physic sat making comment;- He thought it would be the best method to use, To save both his carcase, his money, and shoes;- He'd be his own doctor, and preacher likewise, And his old yellow heap, like a mountain would rise!
The riches he heap'd up, by night and by day, Another has found, for-"The Miser's away!"
THE MISTAKE:
Containing a Moral for high looks, and forward folks.
Ye sportsmen bright of skill, and sight, Who range o'er hill and dale; Awhile give ear, and you shall hear, A true and homely tale.
Ye friends at home, who seldom roam, Much farther than the mill, Be sure you're wise, and mind your eyes, Or let your guns lie still.
It happen'd where, as you shall hear, A building was erected, That to complete its breadth and height, Some workmen were collected.
One morning chill, before yon hill Was gilded with the sun, Or adze, or axe, or mallet had, Their battering begun; Two favourite ducks, had 'scaped the fox, Well fed, and feather'd too; In sportive play, aspiring they Took wing, and off they flew.
With airy wheel, they quick did scale, The lofty wall unscar'd, The trees they topt, and down they dropt A gun-shot from the yard.
A joiner ran, to fetch a gun The wild ducks to secure,- The gun he brought, with which he thought, To make at least one fewer.
Through mist and dew, the contents flew, A duck began to cry, And one took flight, and left our sight, Nor could we it espy.
This done, the man full swiftly ran, To gather up his game,- Both fore and aft, the people laugh'd, To see his _wild_ duck _tame_!
He set her down, she gaz'd around, Wond'ring at such abuse,- But for her weight, or else she might Have pass'd for a wild goose.
In friendship sweet, the ducks soon meet, And talk their frolic o'er, And in their play, they seem to say, They'll fly so high no more.
Our thoughts oft may, our skill betray, But actions they speak louder; If he'd been still, he'd saved his skill, Likewise his shot and powder!
THE BROKEN SEAL.
To sing of Southcotes clouded fame, My muse presumes and tries to soar; Though some may say, "Blot out her name, Let it be seen or heard no more,"
I have a secret to reveal, Effected by a broken Seal!
This poor Joanna had her day;- While fair and bright the morning shone, She led too many far astray, Whose souls much better things had known; She soon their ancient tribe could tell, And signed their title with a Seal.
A poor, illiterate, labouring man, Who went Joanna's voice to hear, A stranger to salvation's plan, Had linger'd on from year to year; He thought she preach'd the gospel real, And he of course must have a Seal!
Without a heart transform'd and new, Joanna Southcote took him in, And seal'd him her disciple true, Without repenting of his sin;- He slyly from his wife did steal, The price of his mysterious Seal!
Her creed on such conditions hung, That while her seals continued whole, Then hope was bright, and faith was strong, And they could neither fail nor fall; But none could rescue those from hell, Who chanc'd to crack or break the Seal!
When, lo, upon a certain day, Examining his little store, Joanna's passport to survey; His pocket book he rummag'd o'er, But consternation turn'd him pale, When he perceiv'd he'd _broke_ his Seal!
His heart was stung with deep dismay, With anguish, and tormenting fears, Which like a trumpet night and day, Did sound this sentence in his ears, "Thou never canst thy crime conceal, Remember thou hast broke thy Seal!"
He thought the Almighty from on high, Would soon his red hot lightnings pour, And he, a sinner doom'd to die, Might then expect the hottest shower;- God would on him his wrath reveal, For he had broke the fatal Seal!
He more than either once or twice, With heavy heart and tearful eye, Went to a preacher for advice, Who soon his sickness did descry; By what his conscience seem'd to feel, His heart was broken with his Seal!
The preacher then without delay, Did point him to the sinner's friend, Exhorting him to watch and pray, And on the Son of God depend, Whose efficacious blood could heal His soul, though he had broke his Seal!
One day in agonizing prayer, Believing on the Son of God, On the dark borders of despair, He found redemption in His blood, And from the transport he did feel, He bless'd the day he broke the Seal!
THE STONE:
Composed to gratify a Scottish Rhymer, and brother mason.
A stone!-and what about a stone?
What sense is there in that?
I answer, in itself there's none: But hold, I'll tell you what!
Oft while in craggy woods I've been, All silent, and alone, A thousand beauties I have seen, Conceal'd within a stone!
While passing through life's troubled scenes, O'erwhelm'd with care and grief, A stranger in this wilderness, And needful of relief: Not wishful then to every one, To make my troubles known,- The thing most useful in this world, I've gained it by a stone!
Some boast of riches, and estates, Of chariots, and of steeds, Of ships that sail by wind or steam, And some of mighty deeds: But all the treasure I desire, In cities, or alone, Is peace of conscience, health of mind, And hewing at a stone!
Our kings, and nobles, dukes and lords, Whose splendid castles rise, Whose palaces, and lofty towers, Reach almost to the skies; Of Greece and Corinth make their boast, Yet are oblig'd to own, Some honour due, from first to last, To those who hew the stone!
In every town, in modern days, Some system new prevails, Men deviate from former ways, The mason's art now fails: Yet masons will be masons still, And will each other own, And smile at all attempts of skill To imitate a stone!
The work will stand, and not disgrace, The master-builder's plan, Defying rain, and tempests fierce, For twice the age of man!
With all their compositions curl'd, And round their columns thrown, The grandest temple in the world, We read was built of stone!
When this fair earth at first arose, And man was made upright, Him, the great God of Heaven chose, And view'd him with delight.
Had he thus stood, ('tis thought by some,) And in God's image shone, It never would have been our doom, To hew and polish stone.
But man soon fell, by mortal sin, And since the deed is done, And we its captives long have been, Th' effect we cannot shun: Yet though man from perfection fell, And sin did make him groan, The Lord in Zion laid for him, "A sure foundation stone!"
When men began to multiply, And sin defil'd the heart, The Lord look'd down with pitying eye, With man he could not part.
The sun by day, and moon by night, And twinkling stars that shone, He made them all rejoice, and sing, Of "Christ, the corner stone!"
Whoe'er upon this stone shall fall, Shall surely broken be, Yet he may still be heal'd again, And be from sin set free: But he on whom this stone shall fall, Shall see the Almighty's frown; He shall be crush'd as powder small, By this stupendous stone!
Moses, that mighty man of God, Who Israel's flock did lead, Whose feet the path of duty trod, And oft for them did plead, In conversation with the Lord, His face with glory shone, And from awful Sinai bore, The "Tables made of stone!"