Ode on the Peace, An - Part 12
Cease, cease ye throbs of hopeless woe;
He lives the future hours to bless,
He lives, the purest joy to know,
Parental transports fond excess;
His sight a father's eye shall chear,
A sister's drooping charms endear: —
The private pang was Albion's gen'rous care,
For him she breath'd a warm accepted prayer.
He lives the future hours to bless,
He lives, the purest joy to know,
Parental transports fond excess;
His sight a father's eye shall chear,
A sister's drooping charms endear: —
The private pang was Albion's gen'rous care,
For him she breath'd a warm accepted prayer.
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