And o'er the fatal close sits ghastly Death.
Hark! from yon lodge in many a wounding groan
A labouring victim raise the feeble moan!
Swift to the darksome cell the females fly,
To still the tumult of the conscious cry:
Join the deep woe with sad combin'd exclaim;
As pangs maternal shake her drooping frame.
Heav'ns! what a mansion for the tender woes,
The painful travail partial nature throws
Upon the gentler sex—when lenient art