With a frail sister shared a hovel's gloom;
There barely fed—(what could I more request?)—
My infant slumberer sleeping at my breast;
I from my window saw his blooming bride,
And my seducer smiling at her side;
Hope lived till then; I sank upon the floor,
And grief and thought and feeling were no more.
Although revived, I judged that life would close,
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And went to rest, to wonder that I rose: