95
A people's hopes, a people's blessings rose,
And murmur'd vengeance on their haughty foes;
Soon foul corruption cow'ring fled the field,
And truth triumphant wav'd her spotless shield.
Still England rings with Wardle's honor'd name!
Still Scotland's hills re-echo to his fame!
And murmur'd vengeance on their haughty foes;
Soon foul corruption cow'ring fled the field,
And truth triumphant wav'd her spotless shield.
Still England rings with Wardle's honor'd name!
Still Scotland's hills re-echo to his fame!
But vain are human hopes and human joys,
Some bitter drop the honied cup alloys.—
Belov'd! rever'd! though thousand voices raise
The shout of triumph, or the song of praise,
He hears them not.—The father's anguish'd tear
Bedews his darling boy's untimely bier:
Speechless he views the Infant's pallid face,
And mourns each blighted charm, each vanish'd grace.
Yet weep no more! Thy cherub child shall rise,
By angels wafted to his native skies,
Sav'd from the storms of this tempestuous life.
From all its woes, its errors, and its strife;
Some bitter drop the honied cup alloys.—
Belov'd! rever'd! though thousand voices raise
The shout of triumph, or the song of praise,
He hears them not.—The father's anguish'd tear
Bedews his darling boy's untimely bier:
Speechless he views the Infant's pallid face,
And mourns each blighted charm, each vanish'd grace.
Yet weep no more! Thy cherub child shall rise,
By angels wafted to his native skies,
Sav'd from the storms of this tempestuous life.
From all its woes, its errors, and its strife;
