The Old Soldier

Clear was the blue expanse—the day serene— All nature wore an universal green: Smooth pass'd fair Schuylkill's wave, delightful flood! As, musing, on its verdant banks I stood, There wrapp'd in praise, O bounteous God! to thee, Who blest this happy land with liberty: And thou, the instrument in Virtue's cause, Who bravely freed us from oppressive laws! An aged soldier in a voice of grief, Show'd his grey locks, and thus implor'd relief:

Oh youth, who, yet a stranger to distress, Feel not (like me) th' extremes of wretchedness! If, in thy country's cause, thy bosom glows, That country, late o'erspread by barb'rous foes— In whose defence, life's richest blood was drain'd From these poor limbs, while yet a drop remain'd. Now, worn with toil, and impotent with age, Soon shall I leave this joyless, mortal stage. Yet if Humanity, with genial hear, Expands thy soul to actions good and great, Some trifling help, (which may you never need!) Oh give, and heav'n reward the pious deed.

Once, gay in life, and free from anxious care, I through the furrows drove the shining share— I saw my waving fields with plenty crown'd, And yellow Ceres, joyous, smile around; 'Till rous'd by freedom at my country's call, I left my peaceful home, and gave up all, Now forc'd, alas! to beg my hard earn'd bread, This crazy body longs to join the dead: Ungrateful country! when the danger's o'er, Your bravest sons cold charity implore.

Children of wealth, in downy pleasure bred, Pamper'd in ease, by fav'ring fortune fed; Who view with thoughtless eye the humble poor, That glean their scanty meals from door to door; Ah! heave for me a sympathetic sigh, And wipe the falling tear from Sorrow's eye.