Eager I haste a parent’s joy to share,
My bosom bounds with raptures felt before;
But swift the soothing vision sinks in air,
Winds howl around, and restless billows roar.
Even now, whilst prompted by the pleasing past,
In artless numbers flows this pensive lay;
The tottering vessel quivers in the blast,
And angry clouds obscure the cheerful day.
Yet why repine, my anxious breast be still,
No human bliss is free from foul alloy;