On this page

• Text (1)

  Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.

  • 

    Untitled Article

• Transcript

  • Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.

    Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.

    Untitled Article

    fast and the brawl which follows ; and so , we have no doubt would most of our readers . The author scarcely does credit to his class by this description ; he does not stand by his order ; and yet we will not be very positive on this matter ; he knows his men better than we do . The passages to which we except may be not

    at all unpalatable to many of his readers , some of whom may perhaps become his readers on account of those very passages , and thus imbibe the gentler and purer feelings which breathe through the rest of his poetry . If so it is clear that he is right : for all what may be said about civet . He is not himself a papistical or

    heathenish worshipper of St . Monday . In fact , his heart seems to be with Sunday . He hails the day to which his ditty is dedicated , with a longing lingering look after that which had departed to make way , for it . He bids good morrow to the rising sun , with an imagination yet sojourning amid the fading loveliness of the setting sun .

    c O holy , holy , holy Sabbath day , Beneath thy calm rule slumbering lies turmoil !—O , holy , sabbath , is thy sweet delay , For then , the poor mechanic rests from toil . How pale he looks ! as bending he walks by

    To taste the quiet of the sabbath morn ; Poor ' worried thing ! he seems abash'd and shy , For the smart well dressed , passes him with scorn , As if he were not of the same great parent born .

    ? But swiftly on the sabbath moments flee : The holy hours of rest the green earth shun , The laborer—the yet weary lab ' rer , —he , Regretting , views the sabbath ' s setting sun ; He grieves to think it was the Godhead ' s will , His ovvu fair image should be banished To caves and dungeons , there to labour still Beneath the everlasting mandate dread , — 44 Thy brow ' s incessant sweat shall gain thy daily bread /'

    'Dehided brother workman ! dost thou turn 'Thy fair looks pale with sick ' ning gloomy whims ? The Almighty hath but said that thou shalt earn Thy bread by the proud vigour of thy limbs . But profitless thy labour , ' tis thy meed To dig for others ; and thou liv ' st a slave Without wherewith thy little ones to feed , And diest without wherewith to buy thy grave , And sin ' tis deem'd in thee , earth ' s goodly things to crave

    ' The Sabbath ' s past , the bells around are chiming St . Monday morning ' s welcome far and wide ; The sun the azure arch of heav ' n is climbing , The dim mechanics to their labour glide .

    Untitled Article

    Saint Monday . 931

• Citation
  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Dec. 2, 1833, page 831, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2628/page/27/