Her bosom then was veil'd in kerchief clean, But when a wife, she lost her former care, Nor thought on charms, nor time for dress could spare; Careless she found her friends who dwelt beside, Still in her bosom virtue keeps her place, But decency is gone, the virtues' guard and grace. 'Tis his, what cares he for the talk of town? "No! he will let it to the poor ;· -a home "Where he delights to see the creatures come: "They may be thieves; "-"Well, so are richer men;" "Or idlers, cheats, or prostitutes;" "What then?" "Outcasts pursued by justice, vile and base;”. 66 They need the more his pity and the place:" In this vast room, each place by habit fix'd, To union forced by crime, by fear, by need, And some grown old in idleness—the prey That window view! - oil'd paper and old glass Stain the strong rays, which, though impeded, pass, And give a dusty warmth to that huge room, That floor, once oak, now pieced with fir unplaned, Or stubborn bar, that none may hurry in: Chalking and marks of various games have place; While gin and snuff their female neighbours share, And the black beverage in the fractured ware. On swinging shelf are things incongruous stored,— Scraps of their food, -the cards and cribbageboard, With pipes and pouches; while on peg below, That still reminds them how he'd dance and play, Ere sent untimely to the Convicts' Bay. Here by a curtain, by a blanket there, Are various beds conceal'd, but none with care; Above the fire, the mantel-shelf contains If fortune grant it, winds description up. High hung up at either end, and next the wall, Two ancient mirrors show the forms of all, In all their force ;-these aid them in their dress, But with the good, the evils too express, Doubling each look of care, each token of distress.(1) (1) [The graphic powers of Mr. Crabbe are too frequently wasted on unworthy subjects. There is not, perhaps, in all English poetry, a more complete and highly-finished piece of painting, than this description of a vast old boarded room or warehouse, which was let out, in the Borough, as a kind of undivided lodging, for beggars and vagabonds of every description. No Dutch painter ever presented an interior more distinctly to the eye, or ever gave half such a group to the imagination. - JEFFREY.] (1) (2) THE BOROUGH. LETTER XIX. THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH. THE PARISH-CLERK. Nam dives qui fieri vult, Et citò vult fieri; sed quæ reverentia legum, Nocte brevem si fortè indulsit cura soporem, Humanâ turbat pavidum, cogitque fateri.-Juv. Sat. xiii. (2) he who covets wealth, disdains to wait: Law threatens, conscience calls, yet on he hies, [At night, should sleep his harass'd limbs compose, The violated fane and altar rise; And (what disturbs him most) your injured shade, Frowns on the wretch, alarms his treach'rous rest, And wrings the dreadful secret from his breast, GIFFORD.] |