Page:Hemans Miscellaneous Poetry 1.pdf/9



, kind friends, at your tribunal here, Stands "The Poor Gentleman," with many a fear; Since well he knows, whoe'er may judge his cause, That Poverty's no title to applause. Genius or Wit, pray, who'll admire or quote, If all their drapery be a threadbare coat? Who, in a world where all is bought and sold, Minds a man's worth—except his worth in gold?? Who'll greet poor Merit if she lacks a dinner! Hence, starving saint, but welcome, wealthy sinner! Away with Poverty! let none receive her, She bears contagion as a plague or fever; "Bony, and gaunt, and grim"—like jaundiced eyes, Discolouring all within her sphere that lies. "Poor Gentleman!" and by poor soldiers, too! Oh, matchless impudence! without a sous! In scenes, in actors poor, and what far worse is, With heads, perhaps, as empty as their purses, How shall they dare at such a bar appear? What are their tactics and manoeuvres here?

While thoughts like these come rushing o’er our mind, Oh! may we still indulgence hope to find! Brave sons of Erin! whose distinguish'd name Shines with such brilliance in the page of Fame,