O ye in power, thus placed to minister
To every pressing local, social claim,
Of those who gave you this authority,
Trusting you to act wisely in their name,
See that the precious heirloom of our race,
For which our fathers suffered, toiled and bled,
Our glorious Constitution, Britain's pride,
Be to the people's rights in justice wed.
Withhold not from them what in trust ye guard,
For calm enjoyment on the day of rest,
By opening parks, museums, libraries,
That their closed treasures be enjoyed with zest.
Why should our city's priceless treasures not
Be freely open on the day of rest,
That the inspiring thoughts of noble minds
Be to the people thus divinely blest?
And if the masses do not agitate,
For free admission to these works of art,
This fact adds reason more why cultured men,
Should lead them in these joys to share a part.
This day was made for man, not he for it,
And should he to him of all days the best,
For moral, physical and mental life,
Since calm exertion may be actual rest.
Surely the study of the Father's laws,
And survey of His wondrous works and power,
Seen through all nature's grand and wondrous realm,
Is fit enployment for a Sunday hour;
Think ye the public house a fitter place,
In which to spend that blessed afternoon?
I fear that many of you must do so,
Or you would grant what has been claimed right soon.
Sweet object lessons from the King of Kings
Are found in animal and insect life,
And birds and fishes, beauteous flowers and trees,
Are with such lessons eloquently rife;
So are the gracious, light-dispensing heavens,
Grand ocean's depths and mountain heights sublime,
Day's regent King, night's lovely gentle Queen,
Each one discoursing of the Power Divine.
I've lived in Paris and in wonder seen,
A mighty host of people wend their way
In thousands, to the lovely sylvan park
Of Versailles, to spend part of that blest day,
In families of husband, children, wife,
With basket of refreshments, simple, pure,
Which, seated on some verdant bank, they shared,
In peaceful happiness, serene and sure.
I've watched them closely, willing to detect,
In those past days of prejudice and pride,
Some flaw of conduct, wantonness, excess,
Which I could criticise, rebuke or chide,
But I was staggered not to find save one
Excess of drunkenness in that vast throng,
And that one was a foreigner, which proved
That all my foregone censure had been wrong.
And further careful observation proved
Tha wisdom of thus opening freely all
Art treasures, which refine and cultivate,
Whilst giving joy alike to great and small,
For families, who, parted all the week,
On this one day could mingle happily,
And bodily, as well as mental health,
Be thus promoted most agreeably.
The crowd passed pleasantly and peacefully
Through the rich treasures in the palace spread,
And to his credit, be it here remarked,
The priest full oft these happy parties led;
They passed the forenoon of the day at church
In prayer and praise to the great Lord of all,
And now in calm enjoyment praised Him here,
Who hears when and where'er his children call.
Then ye who rule this city, pause I pray,
Give to this subject your attention best,
And make the Sunday to the poor as rich,
A day of liberty, a day of rest.
Let each be free to exercise his choice;
For to keep Britain really great and free,
We should not fetter consciences, or yet
Deprive its people of true liberty.
Only a few links wanting,
Earth's toilers oft exclaim,
Only a few charmed linklets,
To make life's perfect chain;
Philosophers and statesmen,
Poets and courtiers gay,
And cunning craftsmen, at life's forge
Echo the same each day.
The students of life's mysteries
Toil hard, with stern resolve,
The secrets of the universe
To penetrate and solve;
For most minds have some purpose,
Some goal they fain would gain,
Which they believe the linklet
Wanting in life's grand chain.
The warrior risks dear life-blood,
Others toil hard for fame;
The Sage works on through midnight
To earn an honoured name.
The Lover pleads untiring,
At the beloved one's feet,
Each seeking the missed linklet
That may life's chain complete.
Some seek the link in pleasure,
In rioting and sin.
Others, in forced retirement
Of self, in cloisters dim.
Some make the world's applauses
Their sole reward and aim,
Some torture gold to fashion
The missed links of life's chain.
Strive on, ye band of workers,
In faith and courage strong,
Knowledge by labour entereth,
Through perseverance long;
No prize is half so precious
As that obtained through pain,
No means like self-denial,
For perfecting life's chain.
Ever a something wanting,
Ever, just one link more;
Such is the hope-lit watchword
Of pilgrims to heaven's shore,
Nor till on that shore landed,
Will missed links of life's chain
Be found, and firmly welded,
To sunder ne'er again.
Three youths in the heyday of life's hopeful spring,
On a bright April morn gaily hied,
With three little skiffs, each one made by himself,
To skim o'er the silvery tide.
In the joy that awaits on all well-performed work,
Engaged in by youth, child, or man,
Whilst employing the powers which to him God has given,
And labouring as well as he can,
They pushed from the shore, their young spirits elate.
In a trance of enjoyment and pride;
For were they not reaping the cherished reward
Which to labour is never denied?
Far happier than kings, as light-hearted as birds
Who warbled spring carols on high,
Each guided his skiff o'er the freshening wave,
'Neath a cloudless, sun-glorified sky.
They had chatted together while making their boats,
Half in serious mood, half in fun,
Of parting their hair in the middle to aid
Fair balance in the risk they might run.
And thus, in increasing and joyful delight,
They paddled a full hour and more,
And were gaily returning triumphantly, when,
Within about ten yards from shore,
Young Ithill, the eldest, a youth of sixteen,
His seat unaccountably lost,
And out of the frail skiff, the promising boy,
In a twinkling was ruthlessly tost.
His nearest companion, young Whittaker, sprang,
His canoe prompt assistance to lend,
But the noble young Ithill refused to lay hold,
For fear of endangering his friend.
Young Girling was some distance off, but at once
To the rescue most gallantly sprang,
As meantime the cry of "a boy drowning," loud
Through the air supplicatingly rang.
And the mother of Girling, who heard that wild cry,
Flew like lightning across to the strand,
Plunged fearlessly into the tide, where her son
Was struggling with stout heart and hand
To reach his poor friend, and the brave mother sought
To encourage his efforts to save,
While she, who, like him, could not swim, struggled
hard,
Kept afloat by her clothes on the wave.
But vain were their efforts, the telegraph boy
Had sunk 'neath the pitiless wave,
And his poor lifeless body, so late full of life,
Now lies in its calm ocean grave.
In response to shrill cries for assistance, some men
Put off in a boat, all too late!
Instead of at once plunging in to the boy,
Thus heartlessly left to his fate,
'Tis said one of three or four beings called men,
Calmly standing close by on the land,
Threw stones to direct where the poor boy had sunk,
In reply to the woman's demand.
I've been told, but 'tis almost too hard to believe,
That one of these beings could swim,
But was too great a coward and poltroon to risk
The endangering of life or of limb.
But enough of such sickening allusions as these;
Those who might have saved life, lost what
none
Who never ennoble their lives by good deeds,
Could imagine of happiness won
By hearts braced with courage, regardless of self,
Such as John Girling's mother displayed,
Who, like a true hero, sublimely risked life
In those efforts, alas! vainly made.
Is there not on this isle some society formed
To reward such brave deeds as this one?
For surely humanity could not withhold
Recompense for such gratitude won!
Let us hope that this sad, painful history may lead
Every one to determine to try,
The fine art of swimming to master forthwith,
Ere the now opening season pass by.
For doubtless the poor boy might yet have been spared,
Had he known how to swim or to float,
As very few strokes might have brought him to shore,
When he slipped from his slight fragile boat.
'Tis sweet to record the good conduct and life
Of this well-beloved, motherless boy,
In the hope that it may to his absent sire's heart
Convey some consolation and joy.
Teacher sublime, great, grand and free!
My spirit loves and honours thee,
Who taught that all religion ran,
In love to God, and love to man.
Grand, comprehensive standard this,
To lead mankind to peace and bliss,
Inspiring them, when well unfurled,
To link in brotherhood the world.
Could any sect or doctrine claim
A higher, nobler, holier aim?
And should not all religion tend,
To this all-glorious god-like end?
The greatest teacher ever known,
This simple rule of life has shown
Should be the standard for all time,
Of all the sons of every clime.
If then Christ's soul-inspiring plan,
Makes love to God and love to man,
Embrace all duties, and insure
Virtue and happiness most pure.
Why vex the world with differing creeds,
Which meet not universal needs,
Which sore perplex and lead the mind
To separate, not link mankind?
For would not self-denial spring
From such rich soil, and blessings bring,
Which would provoke each one to be
His brother's helper ceaselessly?
If each love God with heart and mind,
And treat as brethren all mankind,
All other virtues must perforce,
Outflow from such inspiring source.
Such life divine inspired within,
Would form stern barriers to all sin,
And be the motive power to lead,
To all that man could wish or need.
Blest reason, long dethroned, might then
Become the guide of erring men,
Blind superstition meet its doom,
Within an unregretted tomb.
Let all with one accord then bend,
Their powers to further this grand end,
Love then would herald the new birth,
Of peace and good will through the earth.
Poor Tyne! no verse of mine has ever sung
The praise of one more faithful than thou wert,
For warm affection formed a major part
Of thy canine existence, now, alas!
Cut short by sad and cruel accident.
We cannot choose but mourn thee, good old dog,
Who for a period of thirteen years
Guarded the family hearth and claimed a share
Of warm affection in its daily life,
Watching through tender, melancholy eyes,
Each loved one forming its component parts.
Ready to follow, sport, caress or play,
If but a kind word led the cue or way,
Parisien emigré of sixty-seven,
Reserved for kinder, more congenial fate
Than thy unhappy brethren of the siege;
Perchance with instinct keen thou did'st rejoice
To leave thy native land, o'ercharged with strife,
And on a foreign shore tell out thy life.
Thy soft, thick, creamy coat, expressive tail,
Deep, lustrous, loving eyes, short bark and wail;
Thy wild delight at prospect of a walk,
Glad boundings over green sward fresh and free,
Thy look of conscious guilt when wrong was done,
And patient waiting at thy master's side,
For well-selected morsel of each meal;
Thy pleadings, far more eloquent than words
Of mine could ever chronicle, thy sweet
Low whinings of inquiry or desire,
All will be long remembered, watcher true,
Good, old, affectionate, responsive Tyne!
Is there a heart so sere as not to feel
Pleasures innumerable o'er it stead,
In sweet surroundings of earth's lovely flowers,
Which cheer and elevate man's saddest hours.
Sweet messages from heaven they convey,
Through perfumed breath they sing their God-taught-lay,
Root firmly bedded in the active sod,
And eye turned upward to their Father God.
Pure gems of earth are beauteous to behold,
Set in the royalty of burnished gold;
But what is their dead beauty, to the glow
Of living, loving glory which flowers show?
Kind angel messengers to earth they seem,
Suggestive of hopes radiant, evergreen,
And of a future blossoming above,
In an eternal home of blissful love.
Types of what earthly love is meant to be,
Struggling through labours to existence free.
Then putting on a fragant outgrowth, rife
With joy for others, through true flowering life.
Sweet influences borne on angel wing,
These odorous blossoms to the sad heart sing,
Diffusing added zest to joyful mirth,
And spreading ripening gladness through the earth.
The perfume of a flower, a touch, a tone,
Oft waken memories of dear days gone,
Wherein an atmosphere of earthly bliss,
A plighted love was sealed with thrilling kiss.
Who has not treasured some poor faded flower?
In token of a radiant, love lit hour,
When life was one delicious joyful dream,
Ere we had learnt "things are not what they seem."
Sweet rose! in sunlit robes of beauty rare,
Which loads with fragrance the enraptured air,
Reposing gracefully on verdant stem,
Thou art of all earth's flowers the choicest gem!
Well has our country done in making thee
An emblem of her nationality;
Thy beauteous form, sweet breath and sunset sheen,
Make thee of all earth's loveliest flowers the Queen!
Who says that Scotland's thistle is not fair?
Of sturdy growth and free determined air,
Type of a race, in mental vigour strong,
Of perseverance and endurance long.
The shamrock with its triple verdant smile,
Fit emblem of our emerald sister isle!
Whose people's pleasant humour laughs down care,
As they good fellowship delight to share.
May thistle, shamrock, rose, for aye intwine
In union and brotherhood sublime;
And every Briton heavenward waft the prayer,
That each the other's weal or woe still share.
Narcissus, sacred to proud Juno once,
Was afterwards the flower of cultured France,
Then the dynastic emblem of Savoy,
Now, the red Indian's magic herb and joy.
The violets of classic Athens too,
Of modest bearing and enchanting hue,
In the accomplishment of time became,
Napoleon's violets of world-wide fame.
Nabrassor's Queen, tired of the level plains
Which her adopted Babylonia claims,
Sighed for her Midian gardens and sweet flowers,
To cheer her in her few retiring hours.
She sighed not long or vainly, for her lord
Called art to rival nature; at his word
Bewitching gardens with rare flowers were
Formed and suspended in mid-air for her.
Let all be grateful to these flower friends,
Who to life's pleasure such rich fragrance lends,
And strive, like them through perfumed actions clear,
Others to gladden, elevate and cheer.
Then will they not have toiled and smiled in vain,
For man a fuller, freer life to gain,
In bright incentives to enjoyments sure,
Through sympathetic nature's teachings pure.
Beloved Queen of Britain's sea-girt Isles,
And lands o'er which the grand Sun ever smiles,
Accept from Liverpool, we humbly pray,
The heartiest welcome loyal hearts can pay.
Thrice welcome to this enteprising Port,
Whose ships to Earth's remotest point resort,
Making our City a commercial throne,
For merchant princes of deserved renown.
The loyal shouts which will beset thy way,
And hearty cheers which thrill thy heart to-day,
Are but expressions impotent to tell,
Our fealty to the Queen we love so well.
We welcome also Connaught's Prince with pride,
And the Prince Henry and his royal bride,
And pray they may in wedded bliss long live,
With every blessing heaven and earth can give.
Our Exhibition, we would fondly hope,
May prove with former splendid shows to cope;
But chief its maritime displays we deem,
May gain the approbation of our Queen.
Peoples of other and far distant lands,
Have toiled with active brains and willing hands,
Working with competition's keen excess,
To make the shipperies a grand success.
In its arrangements may a lion's share
Of grateful thanks be given to our mayor,
To whose untiring enterprise is due,
The grand result which we now proudly view.
What rich displays of scientific art,
Applied to manufactures, form a part
Of its instruction, and what mines of wealth
Have they not sprung to minister to health.
What triumphs of constructive power are here,
What force in those huge engines doth appear,
Which leagued with steam are conquering time and space
And quickening intellect to giant's pace.
And see, yon granite structure towering high,
As if earth's wildest tempest to defy,
Lighthouse of Eddystone, reared at Land's End,
To storm-tossed mariners an angel friend!
And fitting offspring of this noble tower,
To shipwrecked mariners a priceless dower,
Are those blest life-boats merciful to save
Full many a sufferer from a watery grave.
Yonder the graceful trophy, typical
Of our fair City's commerce, trade and skill,
A not unworthy tribute to form part
Of the world's storehouse of constructive art.
Magnificent displays from every clime!
Columbia, Afric', Asia, all combine
With Europe, in this peaceful contest won
From every nation known beneath the Sun!
Science, with her fair sister Art, unite
With nature, to form parterres rare and bright,
Preside at buffets of refreshment pure,
To make enjoyment in the whole more sure.
All industries have freely lent their aid.
And to our city's fête grand tribute made,
Too numerous the products, rich and rare,
In this too brief description to have share,
Suffice it that the whole is richly worth
A pilgrimage from any part of earth,
Besides the lustre shed by thee, dear Queen,
Over the practical, inspiring scene.
Well do we, who are acting out life's part
In its last scene, remember with sad heart,
How nearly five and thirty years ago,
Thou came'st here, with thy loved one, in life's glow!
Albert the Good! long shall his honoured name
Deep love and reverence from all people claim;
Cultured and intellectual, virtuous, kind.
His manly heart was generous and refined.
Noble by birth, yet nobler far by deed,
In philanthrophic work he took the lead,
With thy ennobling union strengthened, graced,
His name on Fame's grand scroll is firmly traced.
Accept, beloved Queen, ere thou depart,
The fervent prayer of every loyal heart,
That the Great Father bless and guard thee long,
Thy gracious reign to prosper and prolong.
Your beauteous gift of lovely brilliant flowers,
My dear young friend, has cheered my suffering hours,
With loved charged telegrams from nature's king,
Such as these messengers to mortals bring.
In gorgeous hues of scarlet, pink and white,
Caught from the glorious sun's electric light.
And sheened by lovely fronds of maiden hair,
With which no emerald jewels could compare.
How merciful the ways of providence!
Our daily life with such sweet joys to fence,
And linking with them such divine discourse,
To point the way to heavenly intercourse!
What pure benevolence has called them forth,
Calm, blooming offspring of rejoicing earth,
Never to sadden, ever to make gay,
And chase the clouds of gloom and care away.
Responding with delight to human care,
Loading with fragrance the enraptured air,
Proving that culture and refinement can,
Increase the happiness of plants and man.
While the divine suggestions which they impart,
Are elevating both to mind and heart;
Calm and refresh the spirit, and incite
To seek through nature's laws "The kindly light."
For nature is God's revelation sure,
Which ever was and ever shall endure,
A daily new creation, to inspire
To simple pleasures and devine desire.
Then let us question nature more and more,
Her glorious realm more ardently explore,
Since she has joys unbounded to extend,
To all who truly seek to be her friend.
Of all the blessings which kind heaven bestows,
From infancy to life's most lengthened close,
The one, far greater than all earthly wealth,
Is the inestimable gift of health;
But as this precious gift of heaven is placed
Greatly within our power to use or waste,
Should not its scientific study claim
Our grave attention and our best care gain?
Without it, the bright jewel of the mind
Is apt to get distorted, weak and blind,
And if not previously well schooled and trained,
Becomes to fears unjustified enchained.
This chiefest blessing of all bounteous heaven,
Is to His children by the Father given
As a productive talent, to be used
For universal good, and not abused.
It thus becomes a solemn charge, that each
Who understands it thus, should others teach,
By individual efforts, and means paid,
For missionary service widely laid,
And as strong healthy minds so much depend,
On healthy bodies; to this righteous end.
Should not all education be then based
On this foundation and with it enlaced?
Let children even, learn that kindly heaven,
To them this priceless heritage has given,
Which they must learn to use with constant care,
And of its dangerous abuse beware.
Why should they not be early taught to know
The dire effects from alcohol that flow,
As well as the right use of generous food.
And well-timed exercise to cleanse the blood.
To trace th' effects that flow from every cause:
With ventilation's most important laws,
Of cleanliness of mind and person too,
And strict exactitude in all they do,
And to breathe through their nostrils, meant to be
Their ever ready respirator free:
To masticate, not bolt their food, and try
To learn themselves, and know the reason why.
Thus being early taught, in after life
They might be better armoured for the strife
Of fierce temptations, which, when conquered, can
Strengthen and elevate the inner man,
For soon or later each is bound to learn,
That every talent must make fair return,
To Him who mercifully gave its use,
For joyful happiness, and not abuse.
There are three sanitary agents given
To mankind, by the gracious God of heaven,
Freely and without stint, for all who choose
These blessed ministers of His to use.
These agents blest are, water, light and air,
Abundantly provided everywhere,
Flowing so freely o'er the outstretched earth,
That man has scarcely yet discerned their worth.
The wind is earth's great ventilating force,
Water the cleansing, purifying course,
Light the awakening, stimulating power,
To nature as to man Heaven's priceless dower.
Important lessons they each hourly teach,
Which every creature has within his reach,
For the same laws that nature's rule apply
To every member of God's family,
Bringing stern punishment for every cause
Involved in disobeying His great laws.
All honour to the band of pioneers,
Who nobly fought 'midst opposition sneers
T' establish sanitary laws, through all
Our towns and cities, for the great and small,
So that preventable disease might be
Assaulted, and stamped out effectually,
And that diseases which perforce remain
Might fuller scientific treatment claim;
And, thanks to Heaven, the fight was not in vain,
For their wise teaching was so simple, plain,
That thousands were induced to join th' affray
And aid the righteous scheme to win the day,
So that a large share of the nation's wealth
Was gained to minister to public health:
And now, no longer are our towns disgraced
By filthy sewage and foul noxious waste,
And every corporation through the land
Is bound on this wise scheme to take its stand.
Medical science tells us that the skin
Is pierced by perspiratory tubes within,
In countless thousands, used for drainage pores;
Vessels secreting oil are found in stores,
Whilst more provide for growth, and others still
Carry off parts decayed with matchless skill,
Each needing daily cleansing with due care,
If we would health and mental vigour share.
Providing other strict conditions willed
By nature, be unswervingly fulfilled.
Thus it should be our first concern to learn,
The laws on which such vital interests turn.
The ambulance and cookery classes each,
In pleasant style much useful wisdom teach,
But are not patronized to the extent
They merit, in their practical intent.
The winter course of science lectures free
A spur to much research has proved to be,
Where representatives from every class,
The most delightful hours together pass.
And what a joy it is to sit at ease,
Listening to words that educate and please,
From master minds who know their subject well,
And on its salient points delighted dwell.
These with free libraries and concerts tend
Much happiness with useful work to blend;
And our fair city may be proud to know,
Th' uplifting forces which from them outflow.
The despotism of custom in our day
To much benignant progress bars the way,
While superstition, ignorance and sloth
Oppose all national and mental growth.
But under education's brightening ray,
And blessed reason's intellectual sway,
These barriers are bound to disappear,
And leave the path to progress free and clear.
The dogmatism of fashion too is crime,
When injuring the human form sublime,
By its stern mandates, which attract the weak,
Causing them nature's holiest laws to break,
By lacing tightly, to a model form,
Which fashion sternly says should then be worn;
This tightening in the vital organs so,
Prevents the circulation's healthy flow,
And thus the lungs and pliant ribs and heart,
Incapable of acting out the part
Assigned to them by nature, prove a prey
To premature diseases and decay.
We talk with pious horror and regret,
Of the unwise Chinese, who will not let
The feet of their poor female children grow,
Entailing thus unutterable woe;
But when unprejudiced the reason acts,
And we together scan th' appalling facts,
Resulting from tight lacing, and tight shoes,
We cannot conscientiously refuse,
To say that of the two vile customs, ours
Is certainly more culpable than theirs,
While we too are not guiltless or discreet,
Respecting our behaviour to our feet,
Making them hobble on high heels, with toes
Not half the width that should their forms enclose;
So we should be more modest when we seek
To satirize them and their customs-weak,
Remembering that we too are much to blame,
And like them merit censure and much shame.
How wisely Israel's poet songster said,
That cleanliness to godliness is wed,
For filthiness of body must conduct,
Impurities which mental life obstruct.
How well are engineers on the alert,
To keep their engines free from dust and dirt,
Knowing that without such great care from them,
They could not do the work required by men;
So neither can we hope our bodies will
Their heaven directed work aright fulfil,
If their machinery is not kept free,
From foul obstruction and impurity.
Science and nature then should be our guide,
Instructive lessons they for all provide,
Teaching us how the pleasant winds insure
That atmospheric air is sweet and pure;
God's antidote they are, invisible,
To poisonous vapours else unbearable,
Which steam from all decaying substances,
Throughout the earth's wide-spread dependences.
But as men civilized do not exist
Always in open air, these guides insist,
That as God uses circulating air,
To purify and sweeten everywhere,
That we should also, through our dwellings wide
An ever circulating air provide,
As we, like other animals outpour,
Foul, poisonous vapours too from every pore.
How well bees understand effects and cause,
Of breaking ventilation's righteous laws,
For see, their crowded hive with straw inlaid,
Has in it but one tiny opening made,
And yet the many thousand inmates there,
Have better, purer, more refreshing air,
Than men and women, in close bedrooms pent
For seven or eight long hours, without a vent
To carry off empoisoned loathsome air,
That they are stupidly content to share.
If we could look within the hive we'd see,
Full two score bees holding tenaciously,
With firm grasp to the floor, unceasingly
Flapping their tiny wings with energy,
And as they fall off wearied, others come
To take their place, with merry hum,
And thus they work, without a moment's pause,
Exemplifying ventilation's laws,
By forcing good air to supplant the bad,
And so escape the consequences sad
Of poisonous vapours and contracted homes,
For which their heaven-taught wisdom thus atones;
Proving they are indeed, inspired to be
Exponents of the laws of Deity.
And if still further witness is required,
To prove what nature teaches be desired,
Let us in fancy's aerial chariot fly
To Bengal's capital, and once more try
To demonstrate from just another side,
The evils which infected air provide;
For it is just a century ago,
Calcutta furnished such a tale of woe,
As surely seldom has been found before
In any other country's saddest lore.
The Great Mogul of India had allowed,
The English to have factories endowed,
In certain parts of his dominion wide,
Which soon became a source of wealth and pride,
To those who laboured in them, and it chanced
That a barbarian Nabob on them glanced
With envious eyes, Suragah Dowlah named.
The tributary king Bengal then claimed,
And this barbarian monster, one fine day
Led a large army to the factory
Built at Calcutta, and so suddenly
Did he attack the place that the small band
Of a few hundred English could not stand
A moment 'gainst his several thousand men,
As they at most but numbered one to ten;
Defence was useless, so they wildly fled
To ships within the harbour, by hope led
To find a refuge there; several of whom
Thereby escaped a most disastrous doom,
But others were pursued and brought to bay,
Which formed th' appalling history of the day,
For in the wild confusion of the fight,
Above six score were captured in their flight;
These the victorious Nabob, had immured
Within the fortress prison, well secured,
Too well, alas! for the contracted den,
Known as the "Black Hole of Calcutta" then,
But eighteen feet in length by fourteen wide.
Could air for twenty men at most provide;
And there were four score odd strong, stalwart men,
Thrust into that abominable den;
Having but two small holes for windows there
For the admission of Heaven's blessed air,
Crushed in with violent brutality,
Shoulder to shoulder they stood gaspingly.
No room to stir in that accursed place,
They pressed in ghastly horror, face to face;
The anguish of the captives soon became
Greater than any pen or word could name;
The neighbourhood resounded with their cries,
Which all description utterly defies,
But as the night wore on, these ravings ceased,
As most of the poor victims got released,
From their most agonising pain, by death;
Whilst the remainder scarce had gasping breath.
Thus when the morrow's blessed sun arose,
It did a most revolting sight disclose,
A ghastly spectacle of horror, where
Were six score loathsome corpses upright there,
Whilst jammed between them, in the filthy den,
Were twenty-three more miserable men,
Who hardly could be said to be alive,
So fearfully did death among them strive
To make them all his own, leaving no trace
Of aught but spectre life in that vile place.
This dreadful history cannot fail to show,
How fatal consequences surely flow,
From disregard of the Creator's laws,
For these foul poisonous vapours were the cause
Of five score agonising deaths, within
The space of a few hours, from wilful sin.
Many such instances of equal weight,
I might from various other sources state,
To show what misery and direful woe,
From breaking nature's laws is sure to flow;
Whilst in the keeping of them, blessings pure
Flow in rewards continual and sure.
Then, seeing we have so much in our power,
Let us like the wise bees improve each hour,
Learn of so-called barbarians, to set free
The vital organs, to act easily,
And to defy dogmatic customs, when
They would enslave the intellect of men,
No longer nature's holy precepts break;
So shall sound bodies sounder minds soon make,
As such a course rich blessings surely brings
From the All Wise, All Mighty King of Kings.