'Lo, on her dying couch, the sufferer lies,
While meager poverty stands shivering by,
And pallid want, with nearly-closed eye,
And conscious guilt, that heaves unbidden sighs!
Fast down her cheeks fall penitential tears,
To Heaven she turns, and now she meekly prays;
Her breast alternate throbs with hopes and fears,
Which now depress, and now sweet comfort raise.
Go, base deceiver, view the dreadful scene—
Go, view the victim that thine arts betrayed;
Who, but for thee, had blest with virtue been;
Who, but for thee, had ne'er from honor strayed.
And keen remorse shall wake a pang of woe,
That only crimes like thine can ever know.
How gladly would I lay my aching head,
Beneath these stately chestnuts' deepened shade,
Where the bright morning sun-beams ne'er have played
Nor smiled as though in scorn upon the dead!
Methinks I here could peacefully repose,
While these majestic boughs should o'er me wave;
And find at last a solace to my woes,
Within an humble, but a welcome grave.
No stone be o'er me seen with praises vain,
And useless pomp to lure the careless eye;
The spot be known but to the village swain,
Whose uncorrupted heart may breathe a sigh;
And though no tear his ruddy cheek bedew,
He yet my lowly bed with flowers may strew.
Well known for his integrity and compassion for the laboring class, Thomas
Doubleday was active in Whig politics as well as literature. Once he was ac-
cused of but never prosecuted for sedition. His Sixty-Five Sonnets (1818) was
a popular success. He also wrote political and economic tracts, dramas, and a
biography of Sir Robert Peele.
Poppies, that scattered o'er this arid plain,
Display the barrenness ye cannot cure,