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 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
Not from our door, his humble pray'r denied,
The friendless man shall wander unsupplied;
Ne'er shall the wretch, whom fortune's ills assail,
Tell there in vain his melancholy tale:
Thy heart, where Nature's noblest feelings glow,
Will throb to heal the bending stranger's woe;
On mercy's errand wilt thou oft explore
The crazy dwellings of the neighb'ring poor,
To blunt the stings of want's unsparing rage,
To smooth the short and painful path of age,
The childless widow's drooping head to raise,
And cheer her soul with hopes of better days:
For thee the pray'r affliction's child shall frame,
And lisping orphans bless Rosalia's name.
The friendless man shall wander unsupplied;
Ne'er shall the wretch, whom fortune's ills assail,
Tell there in vain his melancholy tale:
Thy heart, where Nature's noblest feelings glow,
Will throb to heal the bending stranger's woe;
On mercy's errand wilt thou oft explore
The crazy dwellings of the neighb'ring poor,
To blunt the stings of want's unsparing rage,
To smooth the short and painful path of age,
The childless widow's drooping head to raise,
And cheer her soul with hopes of better days:
For thee the pray'r affliction's child shall frame,
And lisping orphans bless Rosalia's name.
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |