Poems (Sewell)/Lines to Candour

by Mary Young Sewell

LINES TO CANDOUR.

Deck'd with the graces of the morn,
 When first her beauties smil'd,
Of Charity the eldest born,
 Her first and dearest child!

Oh Candour! come, with all thy charms,
 Those beaming eyes display,
Whose soothing softness Rage disarms,
 And makes Dejection gay.

Come, like a Cherub from Above,
 Those envious clouds dispel,
The joyous glow of social Love,
 'Tis thou alone canst tell.

Whilst Slander in the fairest spot
 Selects the weeds with care,
'Tis thine to seek the shade forgot,
 And find the blossom there,

Tho' Discord swells the angry storm,
 To drown thy tuneful voice,
Soft thro' the tempest glides thy form,
 And bids her foes rejoice!

When shiv'ring in a hostile land,
 We see the Child of Care,
'Tis thine, with kind benignant hand,
 To yield a shelter there.

'Tis thine, when ev'ry hope shall fail,
 To wipe the falling tear,
And listen to his artless tale,
 Tho' no one else should hear!

When Slander o'er its hapless theme,
 Shall cast a black'ning hue,
'Tis thine to shed a softer gleam,
 And shew perfections too.

The leer of Scorn—the poignant Smile,
 The pois'nous Hint obscure,
The fatal Doubt, of import vile,
 Ne'er sullied lips so pure!—

Shou'd Truth some horrid crime unfold,
 Which thou art doom'd to hear,
Admiring angels might behold
 Thy forc'd condemning tear!

This praise, oh Candour! shall be thine,
 Whate'er thy lot may be,
When Virtue truly is Divine,
 She loves to dwell with thee!