Where Penitence unpity'd sits, and pale,
That never told to human ears her tale;
Where Agony, half-famish'd, cries in vain;
Where dark Despondence murmurs o'er her chain;
Where sunk Disease is wasted to the bone,
And hollow-ey'd Despair forgets to groan?

Approving Mercy marks the vast design, And proudly cries-" HOWARD, the task be thine!"

Already 'mid the darksome vaults profound,
The caves, hid fathoms deep beneath the ground,
Consoling hath thy tender look appear❜d:

In horror's realm the voice of peace is heard!

Be the sad scene disclos'd;-fearless unfold
The grating door-the inmost cell behold!
Thought shrinks from the dread sight; the paly lamp
Burns faint amid th' infectious vapours damp;
Beneath its light full many a livid mien, -

And haggard eye-ball, through the dusk are seen.
In thought I see thee, at each hollow sound,
With humid lids oft anxious gaze around.

But oh! for him, who, to yon vault confin'd,
Has bid a long farewell to human kind;

His wasted form, his cold and bloodless cheek,
A tale of sadder sorrow seem to speak-

Of friends, perhaps now mingl'd with the dead;
Of hope, that, like a faithless flatterer, fled
In th' utmost hour of need; or of a son
Cast to the bleak world's mercy; or of one
Whose heart was broken, when the stern behest
Tore him from pale affection's bleeding breast.
Despairing, from his cold and flinty bed,
With fearful mutt'ring he hath rais'd his head:
"What pitying spirit, what unwonted guest,

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Strays to this last retreat, these shades unblest? "From life and light shut out, beneath this cell

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Long have I bid the cheering sun farewell. "I heard for ever clos'd the jealous door, "I mark'd my bed on the forsaken floor, "I had no hope on earth, no human friend: "Let me unpity'd to the dust descend!" Cold is his frozen heart-his eye is rear'd To Heav'n no more-and on his sable beard The tear has ceas'd to fall. Thou canst not bring Back to his mournful heart the morn of spring

Thou canst not bid the rose of health renew
Upon his wasted cheek her crimson hue:
But at thy look, (ere yet to hate resign'd,
He murmurs his last curses on mankind)
At thy kind look one tender thought shall rise,
And his full soul shall thank thee ere he dies!

O ye, who list to Pleasure's vacant song, As in her silken train ye troop along; Who, like rank cowards, from affliction fly, Or, whilst the precious hours of life pass by, Lie slumb'ring in the sun :-Awake, ariseTo these instructive pictures turn your eyes, The awful view with other feelings scan, And learn from HOWARD what man owes to man!

These, Virtue! are thy triumphs, that adorn
Fitliest our nature, and bespeak us born
For loftier action; not to gaze and run

From clime to clime; or batten in the sun, 1
Dragging a drony flight from flow'r to flow'r,
Like summer insects in a gaudy hour;
Nor yet o'er love-sick tales with fancy range,
And cry-"'Tis pitiful, 'tis passing strange!"

But on life's vary'd views to look around,
And raise expiring sorrow from the ground:—
And he—who thus hath borne his part assign'd
In the sad fellowship of human kind,

Or for a moment sooth'd the bitter pain
Of a poor brother-has not liv'd in vain!

But 'tis not that Compassion should bestow An unavailing tear on want or woe: Lo! fairer Order rises from thy plan, Befriending virtue, and adorning man. That comfort cheers the dark abode of pain, Where wan Dicase oft cry'd for aid in vain; That Mercy soothes the hard behest of law; That Misery smiles upon her bed of straw; That the dark felons' clan, no more, combin'd, Murmur in murd'rous leagues against mankind; That to each cell, a mild yet mournful guest, Contrition comes, and stills the beating breast, Whilst long-forgotten tears of virtue flow; Thou, generous friend of all!-to thee we owe! To thee, that Pity sees her views expand To many a cheerless haunt, and distant land!

Whilst warm Philanthropy extends her ray,
Wide as the world, and general as the day!

HOWARD! I view those deeds, and think how vain The triumphs of weak man-the feeble strain, That Flattery sings to Conquest's crimson car, Amid the banner'd host, and the proud tents of war!

From realm to realm the hideous War-fiend hies
Wide o'er the wasted earth-before him flies
Affright, on pinions fleeter than the wind;
And Death and Desolation fast behind
The havock of his echoing march pursue:
Meantime his steps are bath'd in the warm dew
Of bloodshed, and of tears;—but his dread name
Shall perish the loud clarion of his fame
One day shall cease, and wrapt in hideous gloom,
Forgetfulness sit on his shapelesss tomb!

But bear Thou fearless on:-the GoD of all, To whom th' afflicted kneel, the friendless call, From his high throne of mercy shall approve The holy deeds of Mercy and of Love: