160
THE WIDOWTO HER YOUTHFUL FRIEND.
Oh! lovely maid! with youth and beauty bless'd, With riches, health, and pleasure in thy train,By friends admir'd, by partial friends caress'd— With pity listen to the widow's strain.
What contrast sad between thy fate and mine! Endearing friends surround thee morn and eve;'Tis mine, in hopeless anguish to repine, 'Tis mine, for ever to lament and grieve.
Thou see'st with smiles the op'ning dawn appears, The brilliant Sun seems rising from the sea;Morning hath shed around her dewy tears, And gayest blossoms hang on ev'ry tree.
Can I feel pleasure at the op'ning dawn? Can shed the Sun one beam of joy for me?Can peace come smiling from yon flow'ry lawn, Or can love blossom on life's with'ring tree?
The light of joy, alas! can never dawn, The sun of pleasure never smile on me;For fate my ev'ry solace has withdrawn, And lopt the branches from the parent tree.
