A Lady stands, her Children at her Side;
Save yon light Boy, who tries with restless Zeal }
His Mother’s Spirit of its Wounds to heal, }
And make her love that life which ’tis his Joy to feel; }
When the sad Lady some poor Effort makes, 20
And a faint Smile repays the Pains he takes.
To these comes One, and see! he comes with speed
And cries, “No further on your Way proceed!
No further, dear Matilda, must you go,
To muse in secret and indulge your Woe.