And these from Pain may be deduced; for these
Removed some ill—and hence their power to please.
But it was Misery stung me in the day
Death of an infant sister made a prey;
For then first met and moved my early fears,
A father’s terrors, and a mother’s tears. 60
Though greater anguish I have since endured—
Some heal’d in part, some never to be cured:
Yet was there something in that first-born ill,
So new, so strange, that memory feels it still!