As trav’llers thro’ life’s varied paths we go,
What sights we pass of wretchedness, and woe!
Ah, deep, and many is the good man’s sigh
O’er thy hard sufferings, poor Humanity!
What form is that, which wanders up and down,
Some poor unfriended orphan of the town!
Heavy indeed hath ruthless sorrow prest
Her cold hand at her miserable breast!
Worn with disease, with not a friend to save,
Or shed a tear of pity o’er her grave;
The sickly lustre leaves her faded eye;
She sinks in need, in pain, and infamy!
Ah, happier innocent! on whose chaste cheek
The spotless rose of virtue blushes meek;
Come, shed, in mercy shed, a silent tear,
O’er a lost sister’s solitary bier!
She might have bloom’d, like thee, in vernal life!
She might have bloom’d, the fond endearing wife--
The tender daughter! but want’s chilling dew
Blasted each scene hope’s faithless pencil drew!
No anxious friend sat weeping o’er her bed,
Or ask’d the blessing on her little head!
She never knew, tho’ beauty mark’d her face,
What beggars woman-kind of every grace!
Ne’er clasp’d a mother’s knees with soft delight,
Or lisp’d to Heaven her pray’r of peace at night!
Alas! her helpless childhood was consign’d,
To the unfeeling mercy of mankind!
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EPITAPH.
From the Greek.
A blooming youth lies buried here,
Euphemius, to his country dear:
Nature adorn’d his mind and face,
With every muse and every grace;
Prepar’d the marriage state to prove,
But Death had quicker wings than Love.
_NEW-YORK: +Printed by JOHN TIEBOUT, No. 358, Pearl-Street, for THOMAS
BURLING, Jun. & Co.+ +Subscriptions+ for this +Magazine+ (at 6s. per
quarter) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and at the Book-Store of
Mr. J. FELLOWS, Pine-Street._
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THE NEW-YORK WEEKLY MAGAZINE;
or, Miscellaneous Repository.
+Vol. II.+] _Wednesday, June 14, 1797._ [+No. 102.+