Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/148



doth a father pity? See the snare Of loathsome vice around his son entwine; Behold his mournful mien, his anxious air; List to his earnest cry for aid divine; Precept on precept pour'd, and line on line, To snatch the victim from a gulf profound; And should those steps once more to peace incline, How do the parent's lips with praise resound, As swell the heavenly harps when a lost soul is found.

How doth a father pity? Ask the form That feebly on his sheltering bosom lies, Like smitten lily shrinking from the storm, Consumption's signal in her languid eyes; What torturing sympathies within him rise, When the fierce cough awakes with racking throe, And to her cheek the burning hectic flies, How is his manly breast surcharged with wo To see his darling hope, like fading flower, laid low.

How doth a father pity? Mark his face Bow'd in deep anguish o'er his cradled heir, Faint struggling in the ice of death's embrace, With ceaseless moaning and convulsive stare,