The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1841-06-12

SONG OF THE BEGGARs.
BY ELIZA COOK.

Through the hamlet, the city, and province we roam,
Every country is ours every spot Is our home,
We ask pity from all, and our claim 10 allowed,
With fair words from the poor and contempt IRON ID
proud
The boy has his satchel--ihe pedlar his pack,
But wehaye burden for heart or for back
While nations are struggling for right for wrong
The beggar, in freedom, goes whs,ling along
The earth may be parched meath a shadowless sky,
We've no grain in the soil that may witheI and die
Let the lightning sheets flash out strong as the,
like,
We've no ship for the tempest-roused waters Z
strike.
Let the gold spreading rays ef wide commerce depart
IT'S no matter TO us-weye no place in the mart j,
Let the of the world ebb and flow they VIII
The beggar, unchanged, is the merriest still.
The rich man is fed ill the dantes but pail
He Is stated with banquets, and thankless for all
And the scrap that he turns from relished with zest
By the stroller, whose p,ancei is short his rest
Hunger fathoms our wallet, and up and away,
At the hoard that is empty, the guests never stay
Those with supper secured Ger their dinner may sit
But the beggars next meal must be won by his wit.
The wooer thai'swealthy is certain omcet
The caresses OF lips that are smngly sweet;
And he pledges the girl that he reckons most fair
In his caret so bright and his burgundy rare.
Yet the name of false may sully the brim--
She may cling to his broad lands more fondy thar
him:
But ifany love US, It's the love that will hold,
For the beggar will never be wed for his gold.
The gentleman's form is all stifily bedighi,
His cheek must be smooth and his hands must be
white;
And though fashion may war with his will or his
ease,
IT'S the world he must heed-'tis the world he must
please,
Bur free are the limbs that our motley garbs wrap,
Though the cold wind may pierce and the taters may
flap:
And Lberty's self, il her garments were made
or the beggArs' wild rags, would be fifty arrayed
All wearied with pleasure the lord may rccline,
Where the feathers son. and the drapery fine
He NAV Toll amid luxury's trappngs but
On our pilowless couch sleep as soundly as he.
Though The blankets and strawheap be all that are
spread
Meath some comfortless hovcI or dcsoIate shed,
From robber or cut-throat our rest Is secure,
The beggar is saie-for he's known to be poor.
The children Of earth, who have fortune or fame
Must endure the fierce arrow of envy and blame
Those who sit in high places with crozier crown
Only waken spirit for hurting them dowR.
But no rivalry enters in poverty state
We have nothing for others TO coyet or hate:
And the blasting OF calumnys whitening power
Cannot injure the beggar in name or in dover.
As the Atom may fall from the mountain of sand,
So we ia our bitterness pass from the land.
None pray for the pauper-- none think OF his soul
No diIge viii they sing, and no bell will they toll;
But they must dig the deep hole and lay us below,
And the worms they ciH feed and the grass it 1riil
grow.
lis enoughfor the sod DER the bcggars grey bones
Is hallowed all your rich ep,aph's stones.