And, haply, one whose strong affection’s power
Unchanged may triumph through misfortune’s hour,
Still with fond care supports thy languid head,
And keeps unwearied vigils by thy bed.
But thou whose thoughts have no blest home above,
Captive of earth! and canst thou dare to love?
To nurse such feelings as delight to rest
Within that hallow’d shrine—a parent’s breast,
To fix each hope, concentrate every tie,
On one frail idol—destined but to die;