Through each apartment as I pass along,
Pause for relief, and then pursue my song;
For me, who now with midnight taper go,
To lose in sleep's oblivious shade my woe,
No greater good my closing thoughts can bless,
Ere this remember'd little couch I press,
Than the sweet hope, that at this sacred hour,
My friend enjoys kind Nature's balmy power;
Than the soft wish, which on my bended knee,
I offer up, Eliza, warm for thee!
Wife of my friend, alike my faithful care,
Alike the object of each gentle prayer;
Far distant though thou art, thy worth is near,
And my heart seals its blessings with a tear.
AND now again 'tis morn, the orient sun
Prepares once more his radiant course to run;
O'er yon tall trees I see his glories rise,
Tinge their green tops, and gain upon the skies:
The SOCIAL PRINCIPLE resumes the shade,
Basks on the banks, or glides along the glade:
See how it pants, my friend, in yonder throng,
Where half a village bears the sheaves along,
Low stoops the swain to dress his native soil,
And here the housewife comes to soothe his
While heav'n's warm beams upon her bosom
She owns the fondness of her wedded heart,
From his damp brow the labour'd drop removes,
And dares to show with what a force she loves:
Where'er the mother moves, her race attend,
And often cull the corn, and often bend;
Or bear the scrip, or tug the rake along,
Or catch the burthen of the reaper's song;
Or, shrinking from the sickle's curving blade,
Cling to the gown, half pleas'd, and half afraid;
While he who gave them life looks on the while,
And views his little household with a smile;
Imprints the kiss ;-then blessing ev'ry birth,
Carols his joy, and hails the generous earth.
But not to scenes of peasantry confin'd, Though, haply, simpler there, as less refin'd'; Not circumscrib'd to these the social plan, Which more extends, as more pursu'd by man. Just as yon path-way, winding thro' the mead, Grows broad and broader by perpetual tread,
The social passion turns the foot aside,
And prompts the swains to travel side by side; Both edge, by turns, upon the bordering sod, And the path widens as the grass is trod.
In cities thus, tho' trade's tumultuous train Spurn at the homely maxims of the plain, Not all the pride of rank, the trick of art, Can chase the generous passion from the heart: Nay, more; a larger circle it must take,
Where men embodying larger int'rests make, And each, perforce, round each more closely twine,
Where countless thousands form the social line.
As slow to yonder eminence I bend, Gradual the views of social life extend; Where benches ease the steep ascent I stray,
And stop at each to take a just survey;
At every step, as sinks the vale behind,
A wider prospect opens on mankind.
Far, to the right, where those blue hills arise, And bathe their swelling bosoms in the skies, The barks of commerce set the flapping sail, And the dark sea-boy sues the busy gale;
There the deep warehouse shows its native store,
There flame the riches of a foreign shore ;
Thick swarm the sons of trade on every hand,
And either India breathes along the strand;
Gold, give me gold! each bustler cries aloud,
As hope or fear alternate seize the crowd;
To careless eyes, the love of pelf alone
Seems to drain off the golden tide for one;
But closer view'd a various course it takes,
And wide meanderings in its passage makes;
Through many a social channel see it run,
In splendid heritage from sire to son ;
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