Classic Poem

1

Unhappy Daughter of distress and woe!
Whate'er thy sorrows, and whoe'er thou art;
For thee the tear of Charity shall flow,
Warm from the purest fountains of the heart.

2

Perhaps, though now neglected and unknown,
A parent once beheld thee with delight!
The darling of a Father's heart alone,
Or the lov'd object of a Mother's sight.

3

For thee, perhaps, they watch'd, and toil'd, and pray'd;
O'er thy sweet innocence with rapture hung;
And well they thought their tend'rest care repaid,
To hear the artless music of thy tongue.

4

When dawning Reason shed its ray benign,
And all thy excellence became reveal'd;
How did they see thy op'ning virtues shine,
And hear thy praise with transports ill conceal'd!

5

For who, alas! can tell thy secret worth?
What soft angelic virtues might appear —
The bosom laid defenceless on the earth,
Might once be grateful, gen'rous, and sincere!

6

Those lips that knew no friend to bid farewell,
Might once the noblest sentiments express!
The wretched head, that unsupported fell,
Might once be turn'd to stories of distress.

7

Some base deceiver, practis'd to betray,
Might win thy easy faith — destroy thy fame;
Then cast thee " like a loathsome weed away, "
The sport of fortune, and the child of shame.

8

Poor wanderer! perhaps thou cou'dst not find
One lib'ral hand, the slender gift to spare;
Insatiate avarice the soul confin'd,
Or timid prudence disbeliev'd thy prayer.

9

Then from the world, despairing and forlorn —
Careless of life, and hopeless of relief —
Thy agonizing heart, retir'd to mourn,
And breathe its last — in unmolested grief.

10

Whate'er thy lot has been — unhappy Shade!
From sin, at last, and sorrow, thou art free;
Thy hapless mem'ry, Virtue's cause shall aid,
And weeping Pity pays her debt to thee!