Christian Charity anxious to provide for future as well as present Miseries-Hence the Hospital for the Diseased. Description of a recovered Patient - The Building: how erected-The Patrons and Governors Eusebius
more active Manager of Business a moral and correct Contributor - One of different Description - Good, the Result, however intermixed with Imperfection.
THE HOSPITAL AND GOVERNORS.
AN ardent spirit dwells with Christian love,
The eagle's vigour in the pitying dove;
'Tis not enough that we with sorrow sigh;
That we the wants of pleading man supply;
That we in sympathy with sufferers feel,
Nor hear a grief without a wish to heal;
Not these suffice-to sickness, pain, and wo,
The Christian spirit loves with aid to go;
Will not be sought, waits not for want to plead,
But seeks the duty-nay, prevents the need;
Her utmost aid to every ill applies,
And plans relief for coming miseries.
Hence yonder Building rose: on either side Far stretch'd the wards, all airy, warm, and wide; And every ward has beds by comfort spread, And smooth'd for him who suffers on the bed: There all have kindness, most relief,—for some Is cure complete, -it is the sufferer's home:
Fevers and chronic ills, corroding pains,
Each accidental mischief man sustains;
Fractures and wounds, and wither'd limbs and lame,
With all that, slow or sudden, vex our frame,
Have here attendance-here the sufferers lie,
(Where love and science every aid apply,)
And heal'd with rapture live, or soothed by comfort die.
See! one relieved from anguish, and to-day
Allow'd to walk and look an hour away;
Two months confined by fever, frenzy, pain,
He comes abroad and is himself again :
'T was in the spring, when carried to the place,
The snow fell down and melted in his face.
'Tis summer now; all objects gay and new,
Smiling alike the viewer and the view:
He stops as one unwilling to advance,
Without another and another glance;
With what a pure and simple joy he sees
Those sheep and cattle browzing at their ease;
Easy himself, there's nothing breathes or moves,
But he would cherish-all that lives he loves:
Observing every ward as round he goes,
He thinks what pain, what danger they enclose;
Warm in his wish for all who suffer there,
At every view he meditates a prayer:
No evil counsels in his breast abide,
There joy and love, and gratitude reside.
The wish that Roman necks in one were found (1), That he who form'd the wish might deal the wound,
(1) [Caligula, being in a rage at the people, for favouring a party in the Circensian games in opposition to him, cried out, "I wish the Roman people had but one neck."]
This man had never heard; but of the kind,
Is that desire which rises in his mind;
He'd have all English hands (for further he
Cannot conceive extends our charity),
All but his own, in one right-hand to grow,
And then what hearty shake would he bestow.
"How rose the Building?"-Piety first laid
A strong foundation, but she wanted aid;
To Wealth unwieldly was her prayer
address'd,
Who largely gave, and she the donor bless'd:
Unwieldy Wealth then to his couch withdrew,
And took the sweetest sleep he ever knew.
Then busy Vanity sustain'd her part,
"And much," she said, "it moved her tender heart;
"To her all kinds of man's distress were known,
"And all her heart adopted as its own."
Then Science came-his talents he display'd,
And Charity with joy the dome survey'd ;
Skill, Wealth, and Vanity, obtain the fame,
And Piety, the joy that makes no claim.
Patrons there are, and Governors, from whom
The greater aid and guiding orders come;
Who voluntary cares and labours take,
The sufferers' servants for the service' sake;
Of these a part I give you - but a part,
Some hearts are hidden, some have not a heart.
First let me praise for so I best shall paint
That pious moralist, that reasoning saint!
Can I of worth like thine, Eusebius, speak? (1)
The man is willing, but the Muse is weak ;
(1) [It was never doubted by Mr. Crabbe's family, that Eusebius was designed for a portraiture of Burke.]
'Tis thine to wait on wo! to soothe! to heal!
With learning social, and polite with zeal:
In thy pure breast although the passions dwell,
They're train'd by virtue, and no more rebel;
But have so long been active on her side,
That passion now might be itself the guide.
Law, conscience, honour, all obey'd; all give
Th' approving voice, and make it bliss to live;
While faith, when life can nothing more supply,
Shall strengthen hope, and make it bliss to die.(1)
He preaches, speaks and writes with manly sense,
No weak neglect, no labour'd eloquence;
Goodness and wisdom are in all his ways,
The rude revere him and the wicked praise.
Upon humility his virtues grow,
And tower so high because so fix'd below;
As wider spreads the oak his boughs around,
When deeper with his roots he digs the solid ground.
By him, from ward to ward, is every aid
The sufferer needs, with every care convey'd:
Like the good tree he brings his treasure forth,
And, like the tree, unconscious of his worth:
Meek as the poorest Publican is he,
And strict as lives the straightest Pharisee;
Of both, in him unite the better part,
The blameless conduct and the humble heart. (2)
Let us, since life can little more supply
Than just to look about us and to die. - POPE.
(2) [In some of Mr. Crabbe's graver descriptions there is a tone of chastised and unambitious serenity, which has a powerful influence on the heart, and affects it like the quiet glow of a mild evening. In reading of the passions of Eusebius habitually rallying on the side of virtue, we are forcibly reminded of one of the sublimest traits in modern writing. It is
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