ON MR HOWARD'S ACCOUNT OF LAZARETTOS . Mortal ! who , armed with holy fortitude , The path of good right onward hast pursued ; May He , to whose eternal throne on high The sufferers of the earth with anguish cry , Be thy protector ! On that dreary road That leads thee patient to the last abode Of wretchedness , in peril and in pain , May He thy steps direct , thy heart sustain ! ' Mid scenes , where pestilence in darkness flies ; In caverns , where deserted misery lies ; So safe beneath His shadow thou may'st go , To cheer the dismal wastes of human woe . O Charity ! our helpless nature's pride , Thou friend to him who knows no friend beside , Is there in morning's breath , or the sweet gale That steals o'er the tired pilgrim of the vale , Cheering with fragrance fresh his weary frame , Aught like the incense of thy sacred flame ? Is aught in all the beauties that adorn The azure heaven , or purple lights of morn ; Is aught so fair in evening's lingering gleam , As from thine eye the meek and pensive beam That falls like saddest moonlight on the hill And distant grove , when the wide world is still ! Thine are the ample views , that unconfined Stretch to the utmost walks of human kind : Thine is the spirit that with widest plan Brother to brother binds , and man to man . But who for thee , O Charity ! will bear Hardship , and cope with peril and with care ! Who , for thy sake , will social sweets forego For scenes of sickness , and the sights of woe ! Who , for thy sake , will seek the prison's gloom , Where ghastly Guilt implores her lingering doom ; Where Penitence unpitied sits , and pale , That never told to human ears her tale ; Where Agony , half-famished , cries in vain ; Where dark Despondence murmurs o'er her chain ; Where gaunt Disease is wasted to the bone , And hollow-eyed Despair forgets to groan ! Approving Mercy marks the vast design , And proudly cries — Howard , the task be thine ! Already ' mid the darksome vaults profound , The inner prison deep beneath the ground , Consoling hath thy tender look appeared : In horror's realm the voice of peace is heard ! Be the sad scene disclosed ; fearless unfold The grating door — the inmost cell behold ! Thought shrinks from the dread sight ; the paly lamp Burns faint amid the infectious vapours damp ; Beneath its light full many a livid mien , And haggard eye-ball , through the dusk are seen . In thought I see thee , at each hollow sound , With humid lids oft anxious gaze around . But oh ! for him who , to yon vault confined , Has bid a long farewell to human kind ; His wasted form , his cold and bloodless cheek , A tale of sadder sorrow seem to speak : Of friends , perhaps now mingled with the dead ; Of hope , that , like a faithless flatterer , fled In the utmost hour of need ; or of a son Cast to the bleak world's mercy ; or of one Whose heart was broken , when the stern behest Tore him from pale affection's bleeding breast . Despairing , from his cold and flinty bed , With fearful muttering he has raised his head : What pitying spirit , what unwonted guest , Strays to this last retreat , these shades unblest ? From life and light shut out , beneath this cell Long have I bid the cheering sun farewell . I heard for ever closed the jealous door , I marked my bed on the forsaken floor , I had no hope on earth , no human friend : Let me unpitied to the dust descend ! Cold is his frozen heart — his eye is reared To Heaven no more — and on his sable beard The tear has ceased to fall . Thou canst not bring Back to his mournful heart the morn of spring ; — Thou canst not bid the rose of health renew Upon his wasted cheek its crimson hue ; But at thy look , ( ere yet to hate resigned , He murmurs his last curses on mankind ) , At thy kind look one tender thought shall rise , And his full soul shall thank thee ere he dies ! Oh ye , who list to Pleasure's vacant song , As in her silken train ye troop along ; Who , like rank cowards , from affliction fly , Or , whilst the precious hours of life pass by , Lie slumbering in the sun ! Awake , arise , To these instructive pictures turn your eyes ; The awful view with other feelings scan , And learn from Howard what man owes to man ! These , Virtue ! are thy triumphs , that adorn Fitliest our nature , and bespeak us born For loftier action ; not to gaze and run From clime to clime ; nor flutter in the sun , Dragging a droning flight from flower to flower , Like summer insects in a gaudy hour ; Nor yet o'er love-sick tales with fancy range , And cry — 'Tis pitiful , 'tis wondrous strange ! But on life's varied views to look around , And raise expiring sorrow from the ground : — And he who thus has borne his part assigned In the sad fellowship of human kind , Or for a moment soothed the bitter pain Of a poor brother , has not lived in vain ! But 'tis not that Compassion should bestow An unavailing tear on want or woe : Lo ! fairer Order rises from thy plan , Befriending virtue , and adorning man . That Comfort cheers the dark abode of pain , Where wan Disease prayed for relief in vain ; That Mercy soothes the hard behest of law ; That Misery smiles upon her bed of straw ; That the dark felon's clan no more , combined , Murmur in murderous leagues against mankind ; That to each cell , a mild yet mournful guest , Contrition comes , and calms the laboring breast , Whilst long-forgotten tears of virtue flow ; Thou , generous friend of all — to thee we owe ! To thee , that Pity sees her views expand To many a cheerless haunt , and distant land ! Whilst warm Philanthropy extends her ray , Wide as the world , and general as the day ! Howard ! I view those deeds , and think how vain The triumphs of weak man , the feeble strain That Flattery brings to Conquest's crimson car , Amid the bannered host , and the proud tents of war ! From realm to realm the hideous War-fiend hies Wide o'er the wasted earth ; before him flies Affright , on pinions fleeter than the wind ; Whilst Death and Desolation fast behind The havoc of his echoing march pursue : Meantime his steps are bathed in the warm dew Of bloodshed , and of tears ; — but his dread name Shall perish — the loud clarion of his fame One day shall cease , and , wrapt in hideous gloom , Forgetfulness bestride his shapeless tomb ! But bear thou fearless on ; — the God of all , To whom the afflicted kneel , the friendless call , From His high throne of mercy shall approve The holy deeds of Mercy and of Love : For when the vanities of life's brief day Oblivion's hurrying wing shall sweep away , Each act by Charity and Mercy done , High o'er the wrecks of time , shall live alone , Immortal as the heavens , and beauteous bloom To other worlds , and realms beyond the tomb .