For the Chester Chronicle
by Anonymous / Dienw
Dum hæc in animo mea revolvo, effundo Lacrymas
Location: English-Language Poetry from Wales 1789–1806, rhif / no. 26Oft to old Neptune’s briny deep,
From worldly sorrows free,
The man of pity walks to weep,
And sings, O Want! of thee.
Thy pallid mien, and ghastly form,
Have sought our northern shore;
For here the herdsmen droops forlorn,
Here starves the humble poor.
For want of bread the infant cries;
The father hangs his head;
The mother fills the air with sighs,
And wou’d her child were dead!
Rather than see its infant form
Become a prey to thee,
“I’d hurl it headlong to the storm,
And die in misery!”
Such, haughty War, thy poignant woes,
To thee such scenes belong,
The painful Muse wou’d thee disclose
In simple, artless song.
But yesterday I saw, with dread,
A sight that drove me wild,
A mother gathering chaff for bread,
To feed her hungry child:
Around her knees the trembling babe,
Its eyes uplifted high,
The mother bade its form to save
From grim-ey’d Poverty.
Oh God of mercies! loud I cry’d,
From whence can this arise?
From War, from War, I deeply sigh’d,
From War, that rends the skies.
Pity ’tis, then, that such a curse
Shou’d hurt our happy isle;
Shou’d drain the nation’s thread-worn purse,
Or drown the fair one’s smile.
Oh! soon again may Peace appear,
And Concord’s milder beam;
To glad each swift, revolving year,
To cherish and redeem.
May Gallia’s plains, and Albion’s shore,
No jarring discord prove!
May distant nations live once more
In kind and mutual love!
Denbigh, Aug. 14. 1795.