Young.
O ye, whom, struggling on life’s craggy road,
With obstacles and dangers, secret foes
Supplant, false friends betray, disastrous rage
Of elements, of war, of civil broil
Brings down to Poverty’s cold floor, while grief
Preys on the heart, and dims the sinking eye;
Faint not! There is, who rules the storm, whose hand
Feeds the young ravens, nor permits blind chance