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THE MELANCHOLY END OF UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN.
Exemplified in the dreadful fate of the Son and Daughter of a wealthy Farmer, who, after receiving and dividing the wealth of their Parents, refused them, in their old age, the shelter of their roof, or a morsel of bread. With an account of the wonderful scenes the Daughter beheld in her trance.
Printed for the benefit of the rising Generation, at the particular request of all who were eye-witnesses to the scene.
Ingratitude! thou curst offence of man,
How foul thy nature! Close allied to hell.
When we have measur'd life's uncertain span,
The horror of thy torture who can tell.
RUTLAND: PRINTED FOR RICHARD LEE. M.DCC.XCV.
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THE MELANCHOLY END OF UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN.
YOU stubborn-hearted children hear,
That slight your aged parents dear,
Draw near a while, with patience wait,
While I this tragedy relate.
No further off than Burkentown,
There liv'd a man of high renown,
Who had a son and daughter bright,
To give himself and wife delight.
The maid was formed beauteous fair,
And female pride engag'd her care,
Neglecting thought of God on high,
She follow'd wordly vanity.
These people did much pains afford,
To make their children love the Lord;
But where God doth not grace bestow,
What can poor feeble mortals do.
At length a certain wealthy man,
To court the lady fair began;
Her parents lik'd the offer well,
As few in riches did excel.
[Page 3] When he had gain'd the maiden's love,
[...]state did an objection prove;
[...]he had not wealth enough to wed,
With one so rich as him, he said.
Her parents gave her all their store,
Save what their son had got before,
That she might marry handsomely,
As her rich lover did agree.
They married were in splendor great,
And settled in a lofty state;
The son and daughter thus did share
That wealth, which was their father's care,
Excepting forty pounds a-year,
Which the old people thought with care
Would serve them both to live upon,
Their son and daughter being gone.
This aged couple, as we hear,
Did afterwards spend many a year
[...] pious ways, and godly deeds,
Which from the Christian's heart proceeds.
But oftentimes the Lord on high,
The faith and zeal of saints to try,
Sends trials and afflictive frowns,
And all their flatt'ring hope confounds.
Thus this old couple felt the rod,
Of an all-wise omniscient God;
A dreadful fire in dead of night,
Burnt their possessions in their fight.
Thus stripp'd of all their needed store,
They now became exceeding poor;
Naked, as rising from their bed,
Without their needed clothes they fled.
[Page 4] They on their daughter then did wait,
Told her of their unhappy fate,
Saying, dear child what must we do,
Unless we are secur'd by you.
She with a frown to them did say,
What would you have me do, I pray;
I have got children of my own,
I think I must first look at home.
Wringing their hands, her mother cries
Our nakedness I hope you'll hide:
My aged limbs with cold do quake,
Child pity us for heaven's sake.
She says, you may stay here to-night,
And in the morning when 'tis light,
Your nakedness for once I'll hide,
Then for yourselves you must provide.
And in the morning straight she goes,
And looks some of the cast-off cloaths,
Saying, eat your breakfast, and be gone,
And see that you no more here come.
They at their table must not eat,
But with the servants set at meat;
Still they with patient Job did say,
The Lord that gave did take away;
And therefore we will patient be:
Next to our son we'll go, and see
If he'll receive us in distress,
Oppress'd by age, and comfortless.
They straightway waited on their son,
Who liv'd a mile or two from town,
Saying, dear child some pity shew,
To those who oft have cherish'd you.
[Page 5] You've heard of our unhappy fate,
How we have been distrest of late,
They wrung their trembling hands and said,
Let us not want in age for bread.
The son he coldly did reply,
I know not what to say, not I,
You can't expect me to maintain
You both cannot long here remain.
They for a fortnight tarried there,
At length the son began to swear,
Saying, you must no longer stay,
Therefore, I tell you, pack away.
The father said unto his wife,
O that the Lord would take our life,
O cruel children, most severe,
Tigers and bears much kinder are.
They hand in hand did wander strait,
Once more unto their daughter's gate,
The servant standing at the door,
Her charity they did implore.
The servant did not know their face,
But to her mistress told the ease,
How a poor aged couple here,
Did ask her for a draught of beer.
Go draw them some the mistress said,
And get them each a piece of bread,
But as she look'd the window through,
She with a frown, said is it you,
Here, stop your hand then she did say,
I shall be plagued thus every day,
Go tell them I will give them none,
And from the gate bid them begone.
[Page 6] The servant said there's nothing here,
And from the gate you must repair,
They said go back you damsel dear,
Tell them it is their parents here.
The servant told her what they said,
She in a passion struck her maid,
Saying, go do as you were bid,
And keep disgraceful stories hid.
The servant put them from the door,
They wrung their hands and wept full sore,
Into a barn they then did hie,
In bitter grief, prepar'd to die.
But look not on the story here
As a tale fictious, not sincere,
For in this land it does appear,
There some such graceless children are.
The next morn the old pair were found,
Extended lifeless on the ground,
News to the daughter straitway came,
She laughed when she heard the same.
Their age, and extreme poverty,
It was too troublesome to me,
No more of them I now shall hear,
I from their trouble am set clear.
But soon the heavy hand of God,
Extended his avenging rod,
One day the son a hunting rode,
And soon his horse the rider thow'd.
He broke his neck and instantly
Extended on the ground did die,
His sister heard it, and the fright
Brought a hot fever on that night.
[Page 7] Her senses quickly fled away,
Ten days in tort'ring pain she lay,
And then to death she did resign,
Thus she experienc'd wrath divine.
Great preparations there were made,
Her body should in earth be laid,
But e'er the funeral was, we hear,
Her breath within her did appear.
And lifting up her hands, she cried,
My soul from heaven is deny'd,
Then to the world she did unfold,
What she did in her trance behold.
When my poor soul did strait depart,
I wander'd through a vally dark,
Large briery woods and wat'ry plains,
At length unto a den I came.
Whence issued smoke and dreadful fire,
As made my soul with fear retire,
I saw my only brother there,
Enclos'd in darkness and despair.
He roll'd his tortured eyes on me,
And said 'tis for my cruelty,
I used to my father dear
That I am now confined here.
Then hearing a shrill trumpet sound,
I quickly turn'd myself around,
And saw a glorious place divine,
Where angels did in glory shine.
I saw my loving parents dear,
With golden crowns in glory there,
O parent's dear, I then did say
Take me to that blest place I pray.
[Page 8] My mother said I do not know
Your
[...], so you away must go,
She
[...] the gate, I knock'd amain,
A
[...]
[...]gel open'd it again.
[...] bended knees did fall,
And on the Lord for mercy call,
[...], cries are now in vain,
The
[...] vile wretch go back again.
And to each graceless mortal there,
W
[...], their parents, truth declare,
T
[...] heaven there is no room,
[...] vile wretches when they come.
[...] to the world she told the same,
Her stubborn heartstrings broke in twain,
Her last words were, be warn'd by me,
To shun rank pride and vanity.
THE END.