Fowle's New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

Parnassian Spring.

THE OLD SOLDIER.

"Pity the sorrows of a poor old man!"
GOLDSMITH.

Clear was the blue expanse, the day serene,
All nature wore an universal green;
Smooth pass'd fair Schuylkill's wave, delightful flood!
As, musing, on its verdant banks I stood;
There wrap'd in praise, Oh bounteous God! to thee,
Who blest this happy land with liberty:
And thou,* the instrument in virtue's cause,
Who bravely freed us from oppressive laws!
An aged soldier in a voice of grief.
Shew'd his grey locks, and thus implored relief:--
O youth who yet a stranger to distress,
Feel not (like me) the extremes of wretchedness:
If, in thy country's cause, thy bosom glows,--
That country, late o'erspread by barb'rous foes--
In whose defence, life's richest blood was drain'd
From these poor limbs, while yet a drop remain'd
Now worn with toil, and impotent with age,
Soon shall I leave this joyless, mortal stage.
Yet if humanity, with genial heat
Expands thy soul to actions good and great,
Some trifling help, which you may never need,
Oh give, and Heav'n reward the pious deed.
Once gay in life, and free from anxious care,
I thro' the furrows drove the shining share--
I saw my waving fields with plenty crown'd,
And yellow Ceres, joyous smile around;
Till roused by freedom at my country's call,
I left my peaceful home, and gave up all.
Now forced alas! to beg my hard earn'd bread,
This crazy body longs to join the dead:
Ungrateful country! When the danger's o'er,
Your bravest sons cold charity implore."
Children of wealth, in downy pleasure bred,
Pamper'd in ease, by favouring fortune fed;
Who view with thoughtless eye the humble poor,
That glean their scanty meals from door to door:
Ah! have for me a sympathatick sigh,
And wipe the falling tear from sorrow's eye.

Our great American Fabius.