Category: Poetry
In this, th' adopted babe I hold With anxious fondness to my breast, My heart's sole comfort I behold, More dear than life, when life was blest; I saw her pining, fainting, cold, I begg'd--but vain was my request.
In this, th' adopted babe I hold With anxious fondness to my breast, My heart's sole comfort I behold, More dear than life, when life was blest; I saw her pining, fainting, cold...
2. Chapter 2But I was forced to feign delight, And joy in mirth and music sought, - And mem'ry now recalls the night, With such surprise and horror fraught, That reason felt a moment's flig...