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Article THE CHELSEA PENSIONER. ← Page 2 of 2 Article A MORAL SKETCH, Page 1 of 1
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The Chelsea Pensioner.
TJiougb , she whose beauty ' s all-enhanting pow ' r Could every sterner care of life beguile , Whose charms could sooth reflection s -sickening hour , Or bid the cheerless brow of sorrow smile ; Far from these dreary scenes for ever torn , No more shall animate each rapturous strain , Now sweetly smiling , now with looks of scorn
, Hiding her heart , that sunk at giving pain : Yet when emerging from the giddy throng , When every eye but mine is seal'd in rest , Pensive I walk these time-mar ' k . 'd walls among , And kiss the hallow'd ground her footsteps pressM ; ifere while tlie scenes of former bliss arise ,
( Sad source from whence these tears of anguish flow ] Far fromthe sneering fool , or censuring wise , I nurse Li solitude the seeds of woe——Deaf to the voice of pleasure or of fame , Yet not from pity's milder influence free , ST ' cn then , not unregardful of thy name , This aching breast shall heave one sigh for thee .
A Moral Sketch,
A MORAL SKETCH ,
BY DR . WILLIAM PERFECT . P^ . ^ / ONSCIENCE than Empires more content can bring , Aud to be just is to be more than King . What is the pomp of groves ' --What pleasure yields The voice of birdsthe garniture of fields ?
, The sheep-fed hills , the valley's fair expanse ? The fragrant zephyr in its airy dance > The purple robes ? the shouts that rend the air ? False glory ' s triumph , and false pleasure's glare I What ' s all the wealth and elegance of life ? If all within be bitterness and strife ? When the still voice of conscience guilt reveals
, A king ' s a beggar , and his wants he feels ; But feels a beggar not its scorpion's sting ; His rags are robes , and he himself ' s a king . To a perturbed spirit what ' s a crown ? The sounding cymbal and the bed of down ? Tyrannic Conscience , by the fates decreed To make us poor in wealth , and rich in need ;
Terrific , power , exempted from th y blame , How bright is fancy ' s ray and friendship's flame ! By thee unvex'd I hear with sacred pride " The wild brook babbling down the mountain ' s side . "
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Chelsea Pensioner.
TJiougb , she whose beauty ' s all-enhanting pow ' r Could every sterner care of life beguile , Whose charms could sooth reflection s -sickening hour , Or bid the cheerless brow of sorrow smile ; Far from these dreary scenes for ever torn , No more shall animate each rapturous strain , Now sweetly smiling , now with looks of scorn
, Hiding her heart , that sunk at giving pain : Yet when emerging from the giddy throng , When every eye but mine is seal'd in rest , Pensive I walk these time-mar ' k . 'd walls among , And kiss the hallow'd ground her footsteps pressM ; ifere while tlie scenes of former bliss arise ,
( Sad source from whence these tears of anguish flow ] Far fromthe sneering fool , or censuring wise , I nurse Li solitude the seeds of woe——Deaf to the voice of pleasure or of fame , Yet not from pity's milder influence free , ST ' cn then , not unregardful of thy name , This aching breast shall heave one sigh for thee .
A Moral Sketch,
A MORAL SKETCH ,
BY DR . WILLIAM PERFECT . P^ . ^ / ONSCIENCE than Empires more content can bring , Aud to be just is to be more than King . What is the pomp of groves ' --What pleasure yields The voice of birdsthe garniture of fields ?
, The sheep-fed hills , the valley's fair expanse ? The fragrant zephyr in its airy dance > The purple robes ? the shouts that rend the air ? False glory ' s triumph , and false pleasure's glare I What ' s all the wealth and elegance of life ? If all within be bitterness and strife ? When the still voice of conscience guilt reveals
, A king ' s a beggar , and his wants he feels ; But feels a beggar not its scorpion's sting ; His rags are robes , and he himself ' s a king . To a perturbed spirit what ' s a crown ? The sounding cymbal and the bed of down ? Tyrannic Conscience , by the fates decreed To make us poor in wealth , and rich in need ;
Terrific , power , exempted from th y blame , How bright is fancy ' s ray and friendship's flame ! By thee unvex'd I hear with sacred pride " The wild brook babbling down the mountain ' s side . "