THE HISTORY of RICHARD

I PASS the days of Richard's youth, His pranks and idle play; Nor need I tell the mournful truth Of wicked deeds each day.

For Richard when to manhood grown, Was still a wicked wight, He prov'd a plague to all the town, And wrong prefer'd to right.

Sometimes he ty'd a neighbour's door, Sometimes their glass he broke; Nor car'd a pin for rich or poor, If he could have his joke.

From bad to worse he headlong drove, For man is never still; He either daily must improve Or fall from bad to ill.

With Richard thus it prov'd, I think; To plays at first he went; Then drawn by cards, and dice, and drink, His nights at taverns spent.

Thus madly for a time poor Dick Went on, nor thought of death, Till laid upon his bed, and sick, He panted for his breath—

The fever rag'd, his boiling blood Went burning thro' his veins; 'Twas then he saw his angry God, And fear increas'd his pains.

Deep horror smote his throbbing breast, Fierce anguish fill'd his soul; His bed was thorns—he found no rest, From side to side he'd roll.

Death! ghastly death! before him stood, And rais'd his dreadful dart; Then first he breath'd a prayer to God, And bow'd his stubborn heart,

If Heav'n would grant him life, he said, He never more would sin, But ask of God his daily bread And part from cards and gin.

To ev'ry sigh—each bitter groan, Heaven lent a gracious ear, And sent a guardian angel down, To sooth his pains and fear.

Rais'd on his feeble limbs again Dick found his strength return, He soon was freed from ev'ry pain, He felt no fever burn.

Some weeks he liv'd a sober way, And seem'd to thank his God. But soon alas he learn'd to stray, And left the heav'nly road.

With smutty Bob, and sunny Jack He flew to cards and gin, With them he lik'd his jokes to crack, With them to follow sin.

His sober friends wept over Dick And trembled while they said "Alas! poor man! when he was sick "What promises he made!"

At length, one night at tavern late Mid'st cards and drink and dice, With smutty Bob and Jack he sate Until the clock struck twice.

Wild roar'd the wind, cold was the night, Each homeward reel'd his way, But when the sun brought morning's light None knew where Richard lay!

All day his friends search'd out alas! No tidings they could hear But when the second morn did pass, They sound him on his bier.

Down with the stream they saw him float, All swell'd, and black with gore They leap'd into a little boat And brought him to the shore.

His sober neighbours gather'd round, They mourn'd with grief sincere, Then plac'd his body in the ground, While tear fell after tear.

Their pious teacher rais'd his voice And bade all warning take, For Heaven will blast all wicked joys, And cut off every rake!

"Though God in mercy may prolong "A wicked wretch's life, "He will pull down the fierce and strong, "And blast them in their strife!"