That, like attendant angels, they have stood
Close by their side in hours of solitude,
There, by the charms of mem’ry, to arrest
Each thought of vice, whene’er it would intrude
Into the heart. O, those are truly blest,
Who drink the purest virtue at their mother’s breast.
VIII.
Few lose the mem’ry of a mother’s love;
Few go so far from virtue, that they ne’er
Think of the hand that pointed them above;