(_For the Mirror_.)
What is pity?
'Tis virtue's essence,--'tis benevolence
Itself;--'tis mercy, justice, charity;
It is the rarest boon that man doth give to man;
It is the first perfection of our nature;
It is the brightest attribute of heav'n:
Without it man should rank beneath the brute;
And with it--he is little lower than angel.
The generous mite of penury is pity;
Nay, ev'n a look.--
Not so the heartless pittance of the affluent,
That is hypocrisy. If you pity,
Your heart is liberal to forgive,
Your memory to forget--
Your purse is open, and your hands are free
To help the penniless.