Written by
Francesco Petrarch |
SONNET VII.
La gola e 'l sonno e l' oziose piume.
TO A FRIEND, ENCOURAGING HIM TO PURSUE POETRY.
Torn is each virtue from its earthly throne
By sloth, intemperance, and voluptuous ease;
E'en nature deviates from her wonted ways,
Too much the slave of vicious custom grown.
Far hence is every light celestial gone,
That guides mankind through life's perplexing maze;
And those, whom Helicon's sweet waters please,
From mocking crowds receive contempt alone.
Who now would laurel, myrtle-wreaths obtain?
Let want, let shame, Philosophy attend!
Cries the base world, intent on sordid gain.
[Pg 7]What though thy favourite path be trod by few;
Let it but urge thee more, dear gentle friend!
Thy great design of glory to pursue.
Anon.
Intemperance, slumber, and the slothful down
Have chased each virtue from this world away;
Hence is our nature nearly led astray
From its due course, by habitude o'erthrown;
Those kindly lights of heaven so dim are grown,
Which shed o'er human life instruction's ray;
That him with scornful wonder they survey,
Who would draw forth the stream of Helicon.
"Whom doth the laurel please, or myrtle now?
Naked and poor, Philosophy, art thou!"
The worthless crowd, intent on lucre, cries.
Few on thy chosen road will thee attend;
Yet let it more incite thee, gentle friend,
To prosecute thy high-conceived emprize.
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Written by
William Topaz McGonagall |
'Twas in the year of 1888, and on the 19th of November,
Which the friends of the late Ex-Provost Rough will long remember,
Because 'twas on the 19th of November his soul took its flight
To the happy land above, the land of pure delight.
Take him for all in all, he was a very good man,
And during his Provostship he couldn't be equalled in Great Britain,
Which I proclaim to the world without any dread,
Because while Provost he reduced the public-houses to three hundred.
Whereas at the time there were 620 public-houses in the town,
But being a friend of the temperance cauae he did frown,
Because he saw the evils of intemperance every day
While sitting on the bench, so he resolved to sweep public-houses away.
And in doing so the good man, in my opinion, was right,
Because the evils of intemperance is an abomination in God's sight;
And all those that get drunk are enemies to Him,
Likewise enemies to Christ's kingdom, which is a great sin.
The late Ex-Provost Rough was President of the Dundee Temperance Society,
An office which he filled with great ability;
Besides Vice-President of the Scottish Temperance League for many years,
And no doubt the friends of temperance for his loss will shed tears.
Because many a hungry soul he relieved while in distress,
And for doing so I hope the Lord will him bless,
For his kindness towards the poor people in Dundee,
Besides for his love towards the temperance cause, and his integrity.
And when the good man's health began to decline
The doctor ordered him to take each day two glasses of wine,
But he soon saw the evil of it, and from it he shrunk,
The noble old patriarch, for fear of getting drunk.
And although the doctor advised him to continue taking the wine,
Still the hero of the temperance cause did decline,
And told the doctor he wouldn't of wine take any more,
So in a short time his spirit fled to heaven, where all troubles are o'er.
I'm sure very little good emanates from strong drink,
And many people, alas! it leads to hell's brink!
Some to the scaffold, and some to a pauper's grave,
Whereas if they would abstain from drink, Christ would them save.
'Twas on Friday afternoon, in November the 23rd day,
That the funeral cortege to the Western Cemetery wended its way,
Accompanied by the Magistrates, and amongst those present were-
Bailie Macdonald and Bailie Black, also Lord Provost Hunter I do declare.
There were also Bailie Foggie, Bailie Craig, and Bailie Stephenson,
And Ex-Provost Moncur, and Ex-Provost Ballingall representing the Royal Orphan Institution;
Besides there were present the Rev.
J.
Jenkins and the Rev.
J.
Masson,
With grief depicted in their faces and seemingly woe-begone.
There were also Mr Henry Adams, representing the Glover trade,
Also Mr J.
Carter, who never was afraid
To denounce strong drink, and to warn the people from it to flee,
While agent of the Temperance Society in Dundee.
And when the funeral cortege arrived at the Western burying-ground,
Then the clergyman performed the funeral service with a solemn sound;
While from the eyes of the spectators fell many a tear
For the late Ex-Provost Rough they loved so dear.
And when the coffin was lowered into its house of clay,
Then the friends of the deceased homewards wended their way,
Conversing on the good qualities of the good man,
Declaring that the late Ex-Provost Rough couldn't be equalled in Great Britain.
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Written by
Isaac Watts |
Intemperance punished and pardoned.
Vain man, on foolish pleasures bent,
Prepares for his own punishment;
What pains, what loathsome maladies,
From luxury and lust arise!
The drunkard feels his vitals waste,
Yet drowns his health to please his taste;
Till all his active powers are lost,
And fainting life draws near the dust.
The glutton groans, and loathes to eat,
His soul abhors delicious meat;
Nature, with heavy loads oppressed,
Would yield to death to be released.
Then how the frighted sinners fly
To God for help with earnest cry!
He hears their groans, prolongs their breath,
And saves them from approaching death.
No med'cines could effect the cure
So quick, so easy, or so sure;
The deadly sentence God repeals,
He sends his sovereign word, and heals.
O may the sons of men record
The wondrous goodness of the Lord!
And let their thankful off'rings prove
How they adore their Maker's love
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Written by
Emily Dickinson |
To see her is a Picture --
To hear her is a Tune --
To know her an Intemperance
As innocent as June --
To know her not -- Affliction --
To own her for a Friend
A warmth as near as if the Sun
Were shining in your Hand.
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Written by
Emily Dickinson |
Through those old Grounds of memory,
The sauntering alone
Is a divine intemperance
A prudent man would shun.
Of liquors that are vended
'Tis easy to beware
But statutes do not meddle
With the internal bar.
Pernicious as the sunset
Permitting to pursue
But impotent to gather,
The tranquil perfidy
Alloys our firmer moments
With that severest gold
Convenient to the longing
But otherwise withheld.
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Written by
Isaac Watts |
The punishment of luxury and intemperance.
When Isr'el sins, the Lord reproves
And fills their hearts with dread;
Yet he forgives the men he loves,
And sends them heav'nly bread.
He fed them with a lib'ral hand,
And made his treasures known;
He gave the midnight clouds command
To pour provision down.
The manna, like a morning shower,
Lay thick around their feet
The corn of heav'n, so light, so pure,
As though 'twere angels' meat.
But they in murm'ring language said,
"Manna is all our feast;
We loathe this light, this airy bread;
We must have flesh to taste.
"
"Ye shall have flesh to please your lust,"
The Lord in wrath replied,
And sent them quails like sand or dust,
Heaped up from side to side.
He gave them all their own desire,
And greedy as they fed,
His vengeance burnt with secret fire,
And smote the rebels dead.
When some were slain, the rest returned
And sought the Lord with tears;
Under the rod they feared and mourned,
But soon forgot their fears.
Oft he chastised and still forgave,
Till, by his gracious hand,
The nation he resolved to save
Possessed the promised land.
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