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Poem
May 19, 1790
Gazette Of The United States
New York, New York County, New York
What is this article about?
A destitute elderly man imprisoned pleads with the affluent for charity and release, narrating his swift fall from prosperity due to misplaced trust, betrayal by his daughter's lover leading to her sorrowful death, and the isolation of poverty.
Clipping
OCR Quality
85%
Good
Full Text
(T. St. John Moore.)
CHILDREN of Affluence! hear a poor man's prayer,
O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom;
Let not the hand of comfortless despair,
Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb!
Unus'd Compassion's tribute to demand,
With clamorous din wake charity's dull ear,
Wring the slow aid from Pity's loitering hand,
Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready tear.
Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours,
To views of bliss, to scenes of affluence born,
The hand of Pleasure strew'd my path with flowers,
And every blessing hail'd my youthful morn,
But ah! how quick the change! the morning gleam,
That cheer'd my fancy with her magic ray,
Fled like the garish pageant of a dream,
And sorrow clos'd the evening of my day.
Such is the lot of human bliss below,
And hope a while the trembling flow'ret rears,
'Till unforeseen descends the blight of woe,
And withers in an hour the pride of years.
In evil hour, to specious wiles a prey,
I trusted-(whom from faults is always free?)
And the short progress of one fatal day,
Was all the space 'twixt wealth and poverty.
Where could I seek for comfort or for aid?
To whom the ruins of my state commend?
Left to myself, abandon'd and betray'd,
Too late I found the wretched have no friend!
E'en he, amid the rest, the favour'd youth,
Whose vows had met the tenderest warm return,
Forgot his oaths of constancy and truth,
And left my child in solitude to mourn.
Pity in vain stretch'd forth her feeble hand,
To guard the sacred wreaths by Hymen wove,
While pale-eyed Avarice from his sordid stand,
Scowl'd o'er the ruins of neglected love.
Though deeply hurt, yet, sway'd by decent pride,
She hush'd her sorrows with becoming art,
And faintly strove, with sickly smiles, to hide
The canker-worm that prey'd upon her heart.
Nor blam'd his cruelty—nor wish'd to hate
Whom once she lov'd—but pitied and forgave,
Then unrepining yielded to her fate,
And sunk in silent anguish to the grave.
Children of affluence! hear a poor man's prayer,
O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom
Let not the hand of comfortless despair,
Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb!
CHILDREN of Affluence! hear a poor man's prayer,
O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom;
Let not the hand of comfortless despair,
Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb!
Unus'd Compassion's tribute to demand,
With clamorous din wake charity's dull ear,
Wring the slow aid from Pity's loitering hand,
Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready tear.
Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours,
To views of bliss, to scenes of affluence born,
The hand of Pleasure strew'd my path with flowers,
And every blessing hail'd my youthful morn,
But ah! how quick the change! the morning gleam,
That cheer'd my fancy with her magic ray,
Fled like the garish pageant of a dream,
And sorrow clos'd the evening of my day.
Such is the lot of human bliss below,
And hope a while the trembling flow'ret rears,
'Till unforeseen descends the blight of woe,
And withers in an hour the pride of years.
In evil hour, to specious wiles a prey,
I trusted-(whom from faults is always free?)
And the short progress of one fatal day,
Was all the space 'twixt wealth and poverty.
Where could I seek for comfort or for aid?
To whom the ruins of my state commend?
Left to myself, abandon'd and betray'd,
Too late I found the wretched have no friend!
E'en he, amid the rest, the favour'd youth,
Whose vows had met the tenderest warm return,
Forgot his oaths of constancy and truth,
And left my child in solitude to mourn.
Pity in vain stretch'd forth her feeble hand,
To guard the sacred wreaths by Hymen wove,
While pale-eyed Avarice from his sordid stand,
Scowl'd o'er the ruins of neglected love.
Though deeply hurt, yet, sway'd by decent pride,
She hush'd her sorrows with becoming art,
And faintly strove, with sickly smiles, to hide
The canker-worm that prey'd upon her heart.
Nor blam'd his cruelty—nor wish'd to hate
Whom once she lov'd—but pitied and forgave,
Then unrepining yielded to her fate,
And sunk in silent anguish to the grave.
Children of affluence! hear a poor man's prayer,
O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom
Let not the hand of comfortless despair,
Sink my grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb!
What sub-type of article is it?
Verse Letter
Elegy
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
Love Courtship
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Poor Man Prayer
Dungeon Gloom
Fall Affluence
Betrayal Love
Daughter Death
Charity Plea
What entities or persons were involved?
T. St. John Moore
Poem Details
Author
T. St. John Moore
Subject
Poor Man's Prayer From Prison
Form / Style
Rhymed Couplets
Key Lines
Children Of Affluence! Hear A Poor Man's Prayer,
O Haste, And Free Me From This Dungeon's Gloom;
Let Not The Hand Of Comfortless Despair,
Sink My Grey Hairs With Sorrow To The Tomb!
Forgot His Oaths Of Constancy And Truth,
And Left My Child In Solitude To Mourn.
Then Unrepining Yielded To Her Fate,
And Sunk In Silent Anguish To The Grave.