STANZAS SUBJOINED, &c.

87

STANZAS, SUBJOINED TO A BILL OF MORTALITY

FOR THE PARISH OF ALL SAINTS, IN THE TOWN OF NORTHAMPTON,

ANNO DOMINI 1787.

Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,

Regumque turres.

Pale Death, with equal foot, strikes wide the door
Of royal halls, and hovels of the poor.

HORACE.

WHILE thirteen moons saw smoothly run
The Nen's barge-laden wave,

All these, Life's rambling journey done,
Have found their home, the Grave.

Was man (frail always,) made more frail
Than in foregoing years?

Did famine or did plague prevail,
That so much death appears ?

No. These were vig'rous as their sires,
Nor plague nor famine came;
This annual tribute Death requires,
And never waives his claim.

Like crowded forest-trees we stand,
And some are mark'd to fall;

The axe will smite at God's command,

And soon shall smite us all.

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STANZAS SUBJOINED

Green as the Bay-tree, ever green
With its new foliage on,

The gay, the thoughtless, I have seen,
I pass'd-and they were gone.

Read, ye that run! the solemn truth
With which I charge my page;
A worm is in the bud of youth,
And at the root of age.

No present health can health insure,
Forget an hour to come;

No med'cine though it often cure,
Can always baulk the tomb.

And oh that humble as my lot,

And scorn'd as is my strain,

These truths, though known, too much forgot,
I may not teach in vain.

So prays your clerk with all his heart,

And ere he quits the pen,

Begs you for once to take his part,

And answer all-AMEN.

TO A BILL OF MORTALITY.

89

1788.

Quod adest, memento

Componere æquus; cætera fluminis

Ritu feruntur.

Improve the present hour, for all beside,

Is a mere feather on a torrent's tide.

HORACE.

COULD I, from Heav'n inspir'd, as sure presage,
To whom the rising year shall prove his last;
As I can number in my punctual page,

And item down the victims of the past;

How each would trembling wait the mournful sheet,
On which the press might stamp him next to die;
And, reading here his sentence, how replete
With anxious meaning, Heav'n-ward turn his eye!

Time, then, would seem more precious than the joys
In which he sports away the treasure now ;
And pray'r, more seasonable than the noise
Of drunkards, or the music-drawing bow.

Then, doubtless, many a trifler on the brink
Of this world's hazardous and headlong shore,
Forc'd to a pause, would feel it good to think,
Told that his setting sun must rise no more.

Ah! self-deceiv'd! could I, prophetic, say,
Who next is fated, and who next, to fall,

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STANZAS SUBJOINED

The rest, might then seem privileg'd to play;
But, naming NONE, the voice now speaks to ALL.

Observe the dappled foresters, how light
They bound, and airy, o'er the sunny glade-
One falls-the rest wide scatter'd with affright,
Vanish at once into the darkest shade.

Had we their wisdom, should we often warn'd,
Still need repeated warnings, and at last,
A thousand awful admonitions scorn'd,
Die self-accus'd of life all run to waste?

Sad waste! for which no after-thrift atones :
The grave admits no cure for guilt or sin.
Dew-drops may deck the turf that hides the bones,
But tears of godly grief ne'er flow within.

Learn then, ye living! by the mouths be taught
Of all these sepulchres, instructors true,

That, soon or late, Death also is your lot,
And the next op'ning grave may yawn for you.

1789.

-Placidaq; ibi demum morte quievit.

There, calm, at length, he breath'd his soul away.

"OH! most delightful hour by man
"Experienc'd here below,

VIRG.

TO A BILL OF MORTALITY.

"The hour that terminates his span, "His folly, and his woe!

"Worlds should not bribe me back to tread,

แ Again life's dreary waste,

"To see again my day o'erspread "With all the gloomy past.

"My Home henceforth is in the skies,
"Earth, Seas, and Sun, adieu !
"All Heav'n unfolded to my eyes,
"I have no sight for you."

So spake Aspasio, firm possess'd
Of Faith's supporting rod,

Then breath'd his soul into its rest,

The bosom of his God.

And all his strength from Scripture drew,

To hourly use apply'd.

That rule he priz'd, by what he fear'd,

He hated, hop'd and lov'd;
Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear'd,

But when his heart had rov'd.

For he was frail as thou or I,
And evil felt within;

But when he felt it, heav'd a sigh,

And loath'd the thought of sin.

91