197
Fond friendship's wish, affection's kiss,
And warm solicitude are thine.
If ever from yon vaulted sky,
Angelic hosts to earth descend,
On thee they sure would cast an eye,
And o'er thine infant slumbers bend.
For no dark deeds of guilt or shame,
Of falsehood, arrogance, or strife,
Of cruel pride, or cold disdain,
Have ever mark'd thy spotless life.
I, stopping in the giddy maze
Of youth, to catch a smile from thee,
And pleas'd to look upon the days
Of careless, guiltless infancy;
Perceive as with a vision'd eye,
The throngs of care, and woe, and dread,
Which pressing on in sable dye,
Are hovering round thy cradle bed.
Sternly, impatiently they wait,
The time when thou shalt be their prey,
For well they know this peaceful state
Excludes their proud and bitter sway.
Could she, who with a mother's love,
Thy pliant form has just embrac'd,
