View the wither’d Beldam’s face;
     Can thy keen inspection trace
     Aught of Humanity’s sweet, melting grace? 
     Note that eye, ’tis rheum o’erflows;
     Pity’s flood there never rose,
     See these hands ne’er stretched to save,
     Hands that took, but never gave: 
     Keeper of Mammon’s iron chest,
     Lo, there she goes, unpitied and unblest,
     She goes, but not to realms of everlasting rest!

     Antistrophe

     Plunderer of Armies! lift thine eyes,
     (A while forbear, ye torturing fiends;)
     Seest thou whose step, unwilling, hither bends? 
     No fallen angel, hurl’d from upper skies;
     ’Tis thy trusty quondam Mate,
     Doom’d to share thy fiery fate;
     She, tardy, hell-ward plies.

     Epode

     And are they of no more avail,
     Ten thousand glittering pounds a-year? 
     In other worlds can Mammon fail,
     Omnipotent as he is here!

     O, bitter mockery of the pompous bier,
     While down the wretched Vital Part is driven! 
     The cave-lodged Beggar,with a conscience clear,
     Expires in rags, unknown, and goes to Heaven.

Pegasus At Wanlockhead

     With Pegasus upon a day,
     Apollo, weary flying,
     Through frosty hills the journey lay,
     On foot the way was plying.

     Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus
     Was but a sorry walker;
     To Vulcan then Apollo goes,
     To get a frosty caulker.

     Obliging Vulcan fell to work,
     Threw by his coat and bonnet,
     And did Sol’s business in a crack;
     Sol paid him with a sonnet.

     Ye Vulcan’s sons of Wanlockhead,
     Pity my sad disaster;
     My Pegasus is poorly shod,
     I’ll pay you like my master.

Sappho Redivivus—­A Fragment

     By all I lov’d, neglected and forgot,
     No friendly face e’er lights my squalid cot;
     Shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest,
     The mock’d quotation of the scorner’s jest! 
     Ev’n the poor support of my wretched life,
     Snatched by the violence of legal strife. 
     Oft grateful for my very daily bread
     To those my family’s once large bounty fed;
     A welcome inmate at their homely fare,
     My griefs, my woes, my sighs, my tears they share: 
     (Their vulgar souls unlike the souls refin’d,
     The fashioned marble of the polished mind).

     In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer,
     Point out a censuring world, and bid me fear;
     Above the world, on wings of Love, I rise—­
     I know its worst, and can that worst despise;
     Let Prudence’ direst bodements on me fall,
     M[ontgomer]y, rich reward, o’erpays them all!