Page:Beggar's petition.pdf/2



of friends, inheritance, and rest,

An aged mortal, plaintive, begg’d his way;

And spurn’d by grandeur, when he made request.

Thus, at the door of worth was heard to say,

“Pity the sorrows of a poor' old man,

“Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,

“Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span,

“Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.

“Those tatter’d clothes my poverty bespeak,

“Those hoary locks proclaim my lengthen’d years;

“And ev’ry furrow, in my grief-worn cheek

“Has been the channel to a flood of tears!