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Authority unfeeling power,
Whofe iron heart can coldly doom
The Debtor, drag'd from Pleafure's bower,
To ficken in the dungeon's gloom!
O might thy terror-ftriking call,
Profufion's fons alone enthrall!

But thou canft Want with Guilt confound:

Thy bonds the man of virtuous toil furround,
Driven by malicious Fate within thy dreary bound.

How favage are thy ftern decrees?

Thy cruel minister I see

A weak, laborious victim feize,
By worth entitled to be free!
Behold, in the afflicting ftrife,
The faithful partner of his life,
In vain thy ruthlefs fervant court,

To fpare her little children's fole fupport,

Whom this terrific form has frighten'd from their fport.

Nor weeps the only from the thought,

Thofe infants muft no longer thare
His aid, whofe daily labour bought
The pittance of their fcanty fare.
The horrors of the loathfome jail
Her inly-bleeding heart affail:
E'en now her fears, from fondness bred,
See the loft partner of her faithful bed

Drop, in that murd'rous fcene, his pale, expiring head.

Take comfort yet in thefe keen pains,
Fond mourner! check thy gufhing tears!
The dungeon now no more contains
Thofe perils which thy fancy fears:
No more Contagion's baleful breath
Speaks it the hideous cave of Death :
HOWARD has planted fafety there;
Pure minister of light! his heavenly care

Has purg'd the damp of Death from that polluted air.

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His care exulting BRITAIN found
Here first difplay'd, not here confin'd!
No fingle tract of earth could bound
The active virtues of his mind.
To all the lands, where'er the tear,
That mourn'd the Prisoner's wrongs fevere,
Sand Pity's glift'ning cheek impearl'd,
Eager he fteer'd, with every fail unfurl'd,
A friend to every clime a Patriot of the World?

Ye nations thro' whofe fair domain
Our flying fons of joy have paft,
By Pleasure driven with loosen'd rein,
Aftonish'd that they flew fo fast!
How did the heart-improving fight
Awake your wonder and delight,
When, in her unexampled chace,

Philanthropy outftrip'd keen Pleasure's pace,
When with a warmer foul she ran a nobler race !

Where-e'er her generous Briton went,
Princes his fupplicants became :

He feem'd the enquiring angel, fent
To fcrutinize their fecret fhame *.
Captivity, where he appear'd,

Her languid head with transport rear'd;

And gazing on her godlike guest,

Like thofe of old, whom Heaven's pure fervant blest, Een by his fhadow feem'd of demons difpofeft.

Amaz'd her foreign children cry, Seeing their patron pafs along;

*I am credibly informed that several Princes, or at leaft perfons in authority, requested Mr. Howard not to publish a minute account of some prifons, which reflęcted difgrace on their government.

"O! who is he, whofe daring eye
* Can fearch into our hidden wrong?
"What monarch's Heaven-directed mind,
"With royal bounty unconfin'd,

"Has tempted Freedom's fon to share

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Thefe perils; fearching with an angel's care "Each cell of dire Difeafe, each cavern of Defpair?"

No monarch's word, nor lucre's luft,

Nor vain ambition's reftlefs fire,

Nor ample power, that facred trust !

His life-diffufing toils infpire:

Rous'd by no voice, fave that whose cries

Internal bid the foul arife

From joys, that only feem to bless,

From low purfuits, which little minds poffefs,

To Nature's nobleft aim, the Succour of Diftress!

Taught by that God, in Mercy's robe, Who his cœleftial throne refign'd,

To free the prison of the globe

From vice, th' oppreffor of th' mind!
For thee, of misery's rights bereft,

For thee, Captivity! he left

Fair Fortune's lap, who, far from coy,

Bade him with fmiles his golden hours employ
In her delicious bower, the festive scene of joy!

While to thy virtue's utmoft scope

I boldly strive my aim to raise
As high as mortal hand may hope
To fhoot the glittering * shaft of Praise;

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Say! HOWARD, fay! what may the Mufe,
Whofe melting eye thy merit views,
What guerdon may her love defign!

What may the ask for thee, from Power Divine,
Above the rich rewards which are already thine ?

Sweet is the joy when Science flings
Her light on philofophic thought;
When Genius, with keen ardor, fprings
To clafp the lovely truth he fought:
Sweet is the joy, when Rapture's fire
Flows from the spirit of the lyre ;
When Liberty and Virtue roll

Spring-tides of fancy o'er the poet's foul,

That waft his flying bark thro' feas above the pole.

Sweet the delight when the gall'd heart

Feels Confolation's lenient hand

Bind up the wound from Fortune's dárt
With Friendship's life-fupporting band!
And fweeter ftill, and far above

These fainter joys, when pureft Love
The foul his willing captive keeps!

When he in blifs the melting fpirit fteeps,

Who drops delicious tears, and wonders that he weeps !

But not the brighteft joy, which Arts,

In floods of mental light, beftow;

Nor what firm Friendship's zeal imparts,
Bleft antidote of bittereft woe!

Nor those that Love's sweet hours dispense,

Can equal the ecstatic sense,

When, fwelling to a fond excefs,

The grateful praifes of reliev'd diftrefs,

Re-echoed thro' the heart, the foul of Bounty bless.

These transports, in no common fate,

Supremely pure, fublimely ftrong,
Above the reach of envious fate,

Bleft HOWARD these to thee belong :

While years encreafing o'er thee roll,
Long may this funfhine of the foul
New vigor to thy frame convey!

Its radiance thro' thy noon of life difplay,
And with fereneft light adorn thy clofing day!

And when the Power, who joys to fare,
Proclaims the guilt of earth forgiven;
And calls the prifoners of the grave
To all the liberty of Heaven:

In that bright day, whofe wonders blind
The eye of the astonish'd mind;

When life's glad angel fhall resume

His ancient fway, announce to Death his doom, And from existence drive that tyrant of the tomb:

In that bleft hour when Seraphs fing
The triumphs gain'd in human ftrife;
And to their new affociates bring
The wreaths of everlafting life:
May't thou in Glory's hallow'd blaze,
Approach the Eternal fount of Praise,
With thofe who lead the angelic van,
Thofe pure adherents to our Saviour's plan,
Who liv'd but to relieve the Miseries of Man!

F 1 N 1 S.

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