Be still, O grieving mother, and thou, child,
Found starving, when shut down the night's great gloom!
Behold! what festive lights
Gleam in the palace windows, where unite
The ruling orders of our favoured land,
And magistrates and soldiers of renown,
And doctors, mix with merchants of the town.
The bloom of thy best years
Thou spoilest, girl, while thou dost pine in vain
For that sweet love and life that all desire.