To the Poor

CHILD of distress, who meet'st the bitter scorn

Of fellow-men to happier prospects born,

Doomed Art and Nature's various stores to see

Flow in full cups of joy, -- and not for thee;

Who seest the rich, to heaven and fate resigned,

Bear thy afflictions with a patient mind;

Whose bursting heart disdains unjust control,

Who feel'st oppression's iron in thy soul,

Who dragg'st the load of faint and feeble years,

Whose bread is anguish, and whose water tears;

Bear, bear thy wrongs--fulfill thy destined hour,

Bend thy meek neck beneath the foot of Power;

But when thou feel'st the great deliverer nigh,

And thy freed spirit mounting seeks the sky,

Let no vain fears thy parting hour molest,

No whispered terrors shake thy quiet breast:

Think not their threats can work thy future woe.

Nor deem the Lord above like lords below;

Safe in the bosom of that love repose

By whom the sun gives light, the ocean flows;

Prepare to meet a Father undismayed,

Nor fear the God whom priests and kings have made.

Anna Letitia Barbauld

The Mouse's Petition

OH! hear a pensive prisoner's prayer,

For liberty that sighs;

And never let thine heart be shut

Against the prisoner's cries!

For here forlorn and sad I sit,

Within the wiry grate;

And tremble at th' approaching morn,

Which brings impending fate.

If e'er thy breast with freedom glowed,

And spurned a tyrant's chain,

Let not thy strong oppressive force

A free-born mouse detain.

Oh! do not stain with guiltless blood

Thy hospitable hearth!

Nor triumph that thy wiles betrayed

A prize so little worth.

The scattered gleanings of a feast

My scanty meals supply;

But if thine unrelenting heart

That slender boon deny,

The cheerful light, the vital air,

Are blessings widely given;

Let Nature's commoners enjoy

The common gifts of Heaven.

The well-taught philosophic mind

To all compassion gives;

Casts round the world an equal eye,

And feels for all that lives.

If mind, as ancient sages taught,

A never dying flame,

Still shifts through matter's varying forms,

In every form the same,

Beware, lest in the worm you crush,

A brother's soul you find;

And tremble lest thy luckless hand

Dislodge a kindred mind.

Or, if this transient gleam of day

Be all of life we share,

Let pity plead within thy breast

That little all to spare.

So may thy hospitable board

With health and peace be crowned;

And every charm of heartfelt ease

Beneath thy roof be found.

So when destruction lurks unseen,

Which men, like mice, may share,

May some kind angel clear thy path,

And break the hidden snare.

Anna Letitia Barbauld

The Rights of Woman

YES, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!

Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;

O born to rule in partial Law's despite,

Resume thy native empire o'er the breast!

Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;

That angel pureness which admits no stain;

Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,

And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.

Go, gird thyself with grace; collect thy store

Of bright artillery glancing from afar;

Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon's roar,

Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.

Thy rights are empire: urge no meaner claim,--

Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost;

Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame,

Shunning discussion, are revered the most.

Try all that wit and art suggest to bend

Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;

Make treacherous Man thy subject, not thy friend;

Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.

Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude;

Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow:

Be, more than princes' gifts, thy favours sued;--

She hazards all, who will the least allow.

But hope not, courted idol of mankind,

On this proud eminence secure to stay;

Subduing and subdued, thou soon shalt find

Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.

Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought,

Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move,

In Nature's school, by her soft maxims taught,

That separate rights are lost in mutual love.

Anna Letitia Barbauld