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