There is a half-way virtue in the world Which is the world’s worst enemy; its bane; Its with’ring curse. It cheats it with a show-- But offers nought of substance, when is sought Its peaceful fruits. It suffers men in power To let the young aspirant rise or fall As chance directs. The rich man fosters it; And for the favor, it shuts up his ears Against the cry of virtuous penury; Or bids him dole out with a miserly hand, A farthing, where a thousand should be thrown And proffer’d kindly. The lone orphan’s cries, The widow’s wail in impotence, perchance Secure a few unmeaning tears--but not The pity which administers relief. Words flow as freely as a parrot talks At tales of suffering; and tears may fall As free as Niobe’s; but not a sacrifice The heart accepts, nor pleasure is forgone, Which marks the principle of virtue there, Or such as finds acceptance in the skies. Who pays with pity, all my debt of love-- Who weeps for me, yet never sees my lack-- Who says be clothed, yet never proffers aught-- He’s not my fellow, nor deserves the name. A feeble virtue is a vice, adorn’d With virtue’s semblance. ’Tis a negative And useless quality. It exempts from wo Insufferable, yet grudges perfect bliss; And he but tricks him in a knave’s attire, Who boasts no other. He’s but half the man Who, when temptation stares him in the face, Assents, yet trembles to be overcome! Such men do things by halves, and never do Aught with an earnest soul. They fool away A life, in which the good and evil mix So equal, that the sum is neutralized; And Justice on their sepulchres inscribes No sterner truth, than when she writes--a blank. Why linger then betwixt the two extremes-- The passive puppet of each circumstance? Why pure, and dev’lish--mortal, and immortal-- Too good for earth--and yet unfit for Heaven? Why not at once, dispel these baneful mists, Thrust from thy path, the arts and blandishments Which win to wickedness; and rise at once With a proud moral freedom, until thou Can’st stand upon the stars--and see to Heaven? * THE SCIOT GIRL. ----“I cannot bear To be the scorned and trampled thing I am In this degraded land. Its very skies, That smile as if but festivals were held Beneath their cloudless azure, weigh me down With a dull sense of bondage.”--_Hemans._