Thomas Coombe

“ Then first the tear, at nature's bidding, fell,
As bleeding Friendship press'd its long farewel.
Pale on mine arm connubial mildness hung;
Fond filial duty round my bosom clung.
Firm for their sakes, along the surf-beat strand,
And whisp'ring peace, I led the weeping band;
Deceiv'd their thoughts from Auburn's much-lov'd plain,
And talk'd of happier feats beyond the main.
Poor aged man! since that eventful day,
Despair and terror mark'd thee for their prey.
War, sickness, famine bursting on thine head,
Mock thy vain toils, and weigh thee to the dead. ”

“ When first from Auburn's vale I roam'd forlorn.
He spoke—and frantic with the sad review,
Prone on the shore his tottering limbs he threw.
Life's crimson strings were bursting round his heart,
And his torn soul was throbbing to depart;
No pitying friend, no meek-ey'd stranger near
To tend his throes or calm them with a tear.
Angels of grace, your golden pinions spread,
Temper the winds and shield his houseless head.
Let no rude sounds disturb life's awful close,
And guard his relicks from inhuman foes. ”

“ Of this New World, and Freedom's gentle reign.
'Twas fam'd that here, by no proud master spurn'd,
The poor man ate secure the bread he earn'd;
That verdant vales were fed by brighter streams
Than my own Medway, or the silver Thames;
Fields without bounds spontaneous fruitage bore,
And peace and virtue bless'd the favour'd shore.
Such were the hopes which once beguil'd my care,
Hopes form'd in dreams, and baseless as the air.
Is this, O dire reverse, is this the land,
Where nature sway'd, and peaceful worthies plann'd! ”