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Charlotte Smith - Verses I
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INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN PREFIXED TO THE NOVEL
OF EMMELINE, BUT THEN SUPPRESSED. 
O`ERWHELM`D with sorrow, and sustaining long
"The proud man`s contumely, th` oppressor`s wrong,"
Languid despondency, and vain regret,
Must my exhausted spirit struggle yet?
Yes!--Robb`d myself of all that fortune gave,
Even of all hope--but shelter in the grave,
Still shall the plaintive lyre essay its powers
To dress the cave of Care with Fancy`s flowers,
Maternal Love the fiend Despair withstand,
Still animate the heart and guide the hand.
--May you, dear objects of my anxious care,
Escape the evils I was born to bear!
Round my devoted head while tempests roll,
Yet there, where I have treasured up my soul,
May the soft rays of dawning hope impart
Reviving patience to my fainting heart;--
And when its sharp solicitudes shall cease,
May I be conscious in the realms of peace
That every tear which swells my children`s eyes,
From sorrows past, not present ills arise,
Then, with some friend who loves to share your pain,
For `tis my boast that some such friends remain,
By filial grief, and fond remembrance prest,
You`ll seek the spot where all my sorrows rest;
Recall my hapless days in sad review
The long calamities I bore for you,
And, with a happier fate, resolve to prove
How well you merited your mother`s love.
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