To The Sons Of Brutus Poem by Rees Prichard

YE sons of Brute, of Trojan blood,
A lively, lovely, loving brood,
Attend in haste, and to my strains draw nigh,
With an obedient heart appear,
And with a fix'd attention hear,
My doleful plaint, and heart-affecting cry.

Th' unceasing wheel of restless fate,
Early each morn, each ev'ning late,
'Till Death, still whirls about the fatal ball
Of life - yet thoughtless on we run,
Until the whole is fairly spun,
And we to endless torments headlong fall.

For, like a ship that proudly gay,
Still glides along its wat'ry way,
Whilst on the deck the sailors dance, or sleep,
Our time here passes swift away,
And will not for its owner stay
Whatever coil or clutter he may keep.

Pale Death still follows at our heels,
And like a silent felon steals
Along, with trembling pace, and footsteps slow,
Still ready, with unerring dart
To pierce each unsuspecting heart,
And give, amidst our vain pursuits, his blow.

For, like a bubble on the stream,
E'er we of any danger dream,
The aerial particle of life is flown;
And yet, so thoughtless still are we,
We don't the gaping pit-fall see,
'Till to perdition we all tumble down.

This world's a dotart, sick all o'er,
E'en just now knocking at Death's door,
And tending to the grave with th' utmost haste,
His head turns round, he bows, he faints,€
His heart with apprehension pants,
His gall, and all his vitals strangely waste.

Yet void of awe, or conscious fear,
The thoughtless sons of men appear,
To constitution they too much confide;
As seamen trust (when dangers press,
And they are all in deep distress)
The found'ring bark, 'till bury'd in the tide.

O! let not us, who are but dust,
To a deceitful world still trust,
That breaks, like ice o'er the fallacious stream,
And drops us, at our fate unscar'd,
To the dread judgement unprepar'd,
E'er we can well of its intention dream.

But let us all with anxious care,
For the great festival prepare,
(The hour Christ comes, no man on earth can say)
And to our Saviour's presence press,
In trim array and proper dress,
And vestments suited to that solemn day.

And let us never be surpriz'd
In sin, or be in drink disguis'd
At our last hour, (lest we the feast retard)
Our lamps without or oil, or light -
Our talents not employ'd aright;
But all our reck'ning just, and well prepar'd.

The ax (ye sinners be afraid!)
Has to the copse long since been laid -
Soon from the floor shall the light chaff be blown -
The angel threatens, even now,
The brambles with his sithe to mow,
And then the trash shall to the flames be thrown.

A dreadful doom hangs o'er our heads,
And at our doors old Time now treads,
The trumpet longs the shrilly blast to sound -
The sea, the church-yard, and the field,
And Hell itself, now yearn to yield
The dead in their repositories found.

The Judge himself is quite prepar'd,
Escorted by a sainted guard -
The day is nigh, this globe shall be destroy'd -
When God shall all the sons of men,
Before his righteous throne convene,
There to account for all they've here enjoy'd.

Yet still we madly venture in,
To gorge ourselves on filth and sin,
Not thinking of our reck'ning or our doom:
We still our talents misapply,
And ev'ry passion gratify;
Let death and vengeance come, when they will come.

Like the ancients e'er the deluge came,
Like Sodom, e'er the o'erwhelming flame,
(Not worse the case of Pharoah and his crew!)
We sin with all our might and main,
And still go on to sin again,
Nor the least sign of reformation shew.

As filthy swine can feast on draff,
As thirsty oxen water quaff,
We swill and drench ourselves with heady drink;
We wallow in each foul desire,
As hogs delight to roll in more,
And never of the consequences think.

Presumptuously we curse and swear,
And Christ himself in pieces tear,
And for a straw, or any trifle, fight;
Without the least remorse, or awe,
('Till beggar'd quite) we go to law,
But leave the poor in a most piteous plight.

The sun and moon, with wat'ry eye,
Our vicious conversations 'spy,-
The earth too groans; because so ill we live -
Angels are pain'd at heart the while;
Because we Christians are so vile,
And for our manifold transgressions grieve.

The priest, the farmer, and the hind,-
With artisans of ev'ry kind,
The Bailiff, Judge, and Gentleman, each strives
With most amazing insolence,
Which sall the Godhead most incense;
Nor can I say, who worst, amongst them, lives.

In Indolence, the Clergy live,
The venal Judges bribes receive,
The Gentry tipple in each paltry inn;
The Farmer, but as yesterday
Unus'd to drink, now topes away,
And smokes his tube, as if it were no sin.

The sins which Sodom overthrew,
The vile excesses Parthia knew,
The thefts, which erst disgrac'd the Cretian strand,
The frauds, wherein the Greeks excell'd,
The idolatries Samaria held,
Are rife in ev'ry district of the land.

I blush, the vices to display,
We Welshmen act in open day,
And grieve our immortalities to shew:
Yet 'tis my duty to reflect,
Shou'd I th' unwelcome task reject,
That God will bring them all to public view.

Besides it better is by far,
That I shou'd now those sins declare,
To make us now repent, whilst here below,
E'er in the dungeon's dismal gloom,
We all receive our joyless doom,
Since here no marks of penitence we show.

Therefore, my countrymen, I wou'd
Fully persuade you, if I cou'd,
To pray for pardon, to avert your fate,
And here on earth your morals mend,
Before your lives draw to an end,
And you wou'd fain reform, when 'tis too late.

For 'tis in vain to sob and sigh,-
In vain to tremble and to cry,
When once we at the Judge's bar are cast :
However loud we cry, there's nought
But strictest Justice to be got,
When once the time of reformation's past.

Then let us all resolve this hour
(E'er Jesus comes in all his pow'r
From heaven, to judge each good and evil soul!)
His favour to implore in haste,
E'er we be into prison cast,
And forc'd in floods of flaming fire to roll.

The Second PART.

Enrag'd, with his angelic host,
He'll come - and come unto our cost,
Upon our heads his vengeance to begin,
And with his light'ning's dreadful blaze
He will the guilty souls amaze
Of those, who now are so alert to sin.

Then, all our terrors to complete,
Because his anger is so great,
His friends and servants whom he lov'd so dear,
(When he in all his wrath shall come,
To execute his final doom)
Nay, e'en the angels too, shall quake for fear.

The sun's bright rays shall turn to night,
The moon shall not give forth her light,
The heavens themselves shall tremble with dismay,
The stoutest of the sons of men
Shall shrink for fear and terror then,
And shriek aloud through horror of that day.

Each flinty rock shall rive in twain,
Each mountain sink into a plain,
The seas themselves shall, on that day, grow dry -
The worms that in the waters creep,
The fish and monsters of the deep,
Shall in the bottom of the ocean die.

Each fort and strong-built castle shall,
To its foundation, piece-meal fall,
And ev'ry building in the world be burn'd -
The firmament shall melt on high,
The stars shall tumble from the sky,
And all this globe be to a cinder turn'd.

When Jesus Christ, with glory great,
And ev'ry kind of pow'r replete,
To judge us sev'rally, shall quit the sky -
What human face shall not turn white?
What heart not shudder with affright,
When he Christ's sign in heav'n aloft shall spy?

What horror, and what deep distress,
Must ev'ry guilty mind oppress?
What comfort can the crest-fall'n culprit know,
When he beholds such woe and dread,
The whole creation overspread,
And thinks 'tis for his sins alone they flow?

Monarchs, and leaders of the fight,
And giants once of matchless might,
The proud, th' oppressors, shall bewail their fate,
And to the cloven mountains call,
That they upon their heads shou'd fall,
And screen them from their righteous Judge's hate.

Then, after all this vast ado,
The archangel shall his trumpet blow.
How very loud, and very clear the blast! -
So very loud, and very clear,
The dead piercing sound shall hear,
That calls them to account for all that's past.

The dead shall then ascend the sky,
E'en in the twinkling of an eye,
From dust and rottenness, where low they lay,-
The living too shall then be chang'd,
And ev'ry soul in order rang'd
On high, where they shall for their vices pay.

And there their Judge and sovereign Lord,
Unsheath'd his keen and glitt'ring sword,
Impartially their actions shall observe,
And, in his balance weigh'd with care,
To all he will assign their share
Of good and evil, just as they deserve.

He will not look into the eyes
Of emperors, nor abbot's prize
For their gay robes, their state, or hoarded treasure;
But equal ustice he'll dispense,
Both to the peasant and the prince,
And neither dread their pow'r, nor their displeasure.

When once he opes his books, he'll rive
The heart of ev'ry man alive;
And all their faults expose to open view,
And for each deed deserving blame,
And make injustice his vast fortune rue.

He'll not with one loose word dispense,
Nor with a farthing's vain expence,
Nor moment, spent without due weight and heed -
No vanity, nor waste of time,
Nor act obscene, nor heinous crime;
But all must then be answer'd for with speed.

The fornications of the great,
And gentlewomen of estate,
Who use the servant, when the husband's gone -
The crimes, the murders now abroad,
Each daring theft and private fraud,
Shall then to ev'ry prying eye be shown.

What aspects full of ghastly woe?
What aching hearts shall mortals know?
What gloom and grief shall on each brow be seen,
And on those guilty bosoms prey? -
Who now, alas! this very day,
So forward are, so very fond of sin!

But not a mouthful shall be lost,
Nor bit nor drop of all the cost,
That to the poor, for Jesus' sake is given;
With int'rest it shall be repaid -
While misers rue the crumbs of bread
Refus'd to such - by being banish'd heaven.

Then shall th' Almighty Shepherd keep
The goats divided from the sheep,
And each by try'd for his own sins alone;
These shall in Paradise be plac'd,
With ev'ry bliss and honour grac'd,
Whilst those shall to th' abyss of hell be thrown.

The righteous, at the pref'rence glad,
In robes of dazzling whiteness clad,
Shall soar directly to the sacred domes,
A firm possession to secure
Of realms, that ever shall endure,
Assign'd by God for their eternal homes.

Then shall the reprobated stock,
And all the folks that make a mock
At present of their Judge, and that dread day,
In cluster'd heaps be hurried down
To hell, and into chains be thrown,
Where endless torments on their souls shall prey.

In hell, on Abraham, they shall roar,
(So fierce the fire! their pain so sore!)
And for a drop of water sue in vain :
But though they shou'd forever roar,
They ne'er shall have one mouthful more,
Nor the least portion of relief obtain.

For falshood ever shall remain
In prison there, and racking pain,
Nor even hope for respite from his woe:
He there shall gnash his teeth for rage;
But nothing shall his pains assuage,
Nor shall his suff'rings e'er cessation know.

And there shall we assur'dly go,
Hanging our lips and forehead low,
Because our time we so absurdly spend,
Because we do not watch and pray,
And do not (e'er that awful day
Of vengeance comes) our vicious lives amend.

Let us unfeign'd repentance show,
Whilst Time does of the change allow:
To-morrow never was by any caught!
Let us, this very Now, begin
To quit all vanity and sin,
E'er we are to our final reck'ning brought.

Thou Saviour God, who of thy grace
Hast brought salvation to our race,
And from infernal flames thy servants freed,
O, save us, in the day of doom,
When we to thy tribunal come,
And to the blissful seats of Eden lead!

Shou'd any of the Cambrian land,
In South or North Wales, here demand,
Who sung those strains, that warn them to surmount
Their danger,- say, 'twas one whose aim
Was to preserve them free from blame,
And to remind them of their dread account.