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No brother's aid her wand'ring steps to guide,No cheering home her wretched limbs to hide;Alone, uncomforted, her feeble formIs left unshelter'd to the ruthless storm.
But thou, oh, Hargrave! author of her woes,Canst thou enjoy the sweetness of repose?Say, does not oft that faded form appearBeside thy bed, and claim the gushing tear;Telling thy dreams the woe she doth endure,Griefs without hope, and pangs without a care?For say, canst thou her blighted peace restore,Or bid distemper'd reason shine once more?—Ah! no,—remorse and anguish soon shall seizeThy faithless heart, and break thy fancied ease;—Her wrongs, her woes, shall haunt thee night and day,And drive each comfort from thy soul away;While she above each earthly care shall rise,And pitying, view thee from her native skies.
WILLIAM AND SUSAN.
How happy are the charming pair That live in yon romantic glen!For Susan is the loveliest fair, And William is the best of men.
