The Dead Beggar

AN

GY.

Addressed to a Lady, who was affected at seeing

Funeral of a nameless Pauper, buried at the ex-pense of the Parish, in the Church-Yard at Bright-helmstone, in November 1792.

LS then thy feeling heart, and streams thine eyeO'er the deserted being, poor and old,

Whom cold, reluctant, parish

Consigns to mingle with his kindred mould?

Mourn'st thou, that here the time-worn sufferer

Those evil days still threatening woes to come;

Here, where the friendless feel no want of friends,

Where even the houseless wanderer finds a home!

What though no kindred crowd in sable forth,

And sigh, or seem to sigh, around his bier;

Though o'er his coffin with the humid

No children drop the unavailing tear?

Rather rejoice that here his sorrows cease,

Whom sickness, age, and poverty oppress'd;

Where death, the leveller, restores to

The wretch who living knew not where to rest.

Rejoice, that though an outcast spurn'd by fate,

Through penury's rugged path his race he ran;

In earth's cold bosom, equall'd with the great,

Death vindicates the insulted rights of man.

Rejoice, that though severe his earthly doom,

And rude, and sown with thorns the way he trod,

Now, (where unfeeling fortune cannot come)He rests upon the mercies of his God.