Born to sustain and prop the nation's weight:
If my young Sampson will pretend a call
To shake the column, let him share the fall:[291]
But oh, that yet he would repent and live!
How easy 'tis for parents to forgive!
With how few tears a pardon might be won
From nature, pleading for a darling son!
Poor, pitied youth, by my paternal care
Raised up to all the height his frame could bear!
Had God ordained his fate for empire born,