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OF TEMPER.
53


Forth from the portal lamentable cries
Of wailing infants, without number, rise.
Compassion to this poor and piteous flock
Led the kind nymph still nearer to the rock.
The pining band within she now espied,
And, touch'd with tender indignation, cried,
"How could these little forms, of life so brief,
Deserve this dire abode of lasting grief?"
"—Well may thy gentle heart be sore concern'd
At sight so moving," the mild Sprite return'd:
"Thou seest in those, whole wailings wound thy ears,
The puny progeny of modern peers:
Their fires, by avarice or ambition led,
Aliens to love, approach'd the nuptial bed;
With proud indifference, and with cold distaste,
Their homely brides reluctantly embrac'd,
And by such union gave disastrous birth
To these poor pale incumbrances of earth,