Verses I

O'ERWHELM'D with sorrow, and sustaining long 'The proud man's contumely, th' oppressor's wrong,' Languid despondency, and vain regret, Must my exhausted spirit struggle yet? Yes!--Robb'd myself of all that fortune gave, Even of all hope--but shelter in the grave, Still shall the plaintive lyre essay its powers To dress the cave of Care with Fancy's flowers, Maternal Love the fiend Despair withstand, Still animate the heart and guide the hand. --May you, dear objects of my anxious care, Escape the evils I was born to bear! Round my devoted head while tempests roll, Yet there, where I have treasured up my soul, May the soft rays of dawning hope impart Reviving patience to my fainting heart;-- And when its sharp solicitudes shall cease, May I be conscious in the realms of peace That every tear which swells my children's eyes, From sorrows past, not present ills arise, Then, with some friend who loves to share your pain, For 'tis my boast that some such friends remain, By filial grief, and fond remembrance prest, You'll seek the spot where all my sorrows rest; Recall my hapless days in sad review The long calamities I bore for you, And, with a happier fate, resolve to prove How well you merited your mother's love.