“Tis weakness, child, for grieving guilt to feel.” -
“Yes, but he never sees a wholesome meal;
Through his bare dress appears his shrivell’d skin,
And ill he fares without, and worse within:
With that weak body, lame, diseased, and slow,
What cold, pain, peril, must the sufferer know!”
“Think on his crime.” - “Yes, sure ’twas very wrong;
But look (God bless him!) how he gropes along.”
“Brought me to shame.” - Oh! yes, I know it all -
What cutting blast! and he can scarcely crawl: