Poems (Sewell)/A Riddle

by Mary Young Sewell

A RIDDLE.

In the gloom of the night, over ditches I fly,
 And cheer the poor traveller's road;
Tho' silent, a pleasant companion am I,
 Till he views his beloved abode.

Tho' often despis'd and neglected when near,
 Yet oft am I seen at a distance,
And some wou'd not think ev'n a thousand too dear
 To purchase my timely assistance.—

Yet soon is my friendship disdain'd and forgot,
 And I'm meanly immur'd for my pains:
Like Genius oppress'd, in Adversity's lot,
 Not a spark of my glory remains!

"The offspring of Nature, the offspring of Art!"
 I'm sometimes embellish'd with care,
And oft to the cold and disconsolate heart,
 I'm the herald of ecstacy there.

Then prize me, ye fair ones, ye good and ye brave,
 Tho' Vice may my service employ;
To ruin I lead the seducer and knave,
 And the virtuous to safety and joy.