The New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

The PICTURE of OLD AGE.

Paraphrased from the eleventh chapter of Ecclesiastes.

By F. Bowles, M. A.

My Son, attentive hear the voice of truth
Ere dawn of pale adversity appear,
Remember thy Creator in thy youth,
And age and sorrow fill the gloomy year;
When, wearied with vexation, thou shalt say
"No rest by night I know no joy by day."
Ere the bright soul's enlightened powers wax frail,
Ere reason, memory, and fancy fail;
But care succeeds to care, and pain to pain,
As clouds urge clouds, returning after rain;
Ere yet the arms unnerved and feeble grow,
The weak legs tremble, and the loose knees bow;
Ere yet the grinding of the teeth is o'er,
And the dim eyes behold the sun no more;
Ere yet the pallid lips forget to speak,
The gums are toothless, and the voice is weak
Restless he rises when the lark he hears,
Yet sweetest music fails to charm his ears.
A tone, a hillock, turns his giddy brain,
Appalled with fear he totters o'er the plain:
And as the almond tree white flowers displays,
His head grows hoary with the length of days;
As leanness in the grasshopper prevail,
So shrinks his body, and his stomach fails
Doomed to the grave, his last long home to go,
The mourners march along with solemn woe.
Ere yet life's silver cord be snapped in twain,
Ere broke the golden bowl that holds the brain,
Ere broke the pitcher at the fountain head,
Or life's wheel shivered, and the soul depart.
Then shall the dust to native earth be given,
The soul shall soar sublime, & wing its way to heav'n