When melancholy news from India came,—
The youthful husband in the war was slain,
(Her mother long time in the grave had lain,)
And poor Rosina, worn with care and grief,
In childhood's scenes resolved to seek relief:
But deep disease was rooted in her breast,
And soon her gentle spirit sank to rest.
'My child! my child! Oh, guard it for my sake!'
Were the last words she ere departing spake.
'An orphan's life from infancy was thine,