To My Sisters

Nor you , my Sisters, from the lay withhold
A fond and partial ear; for both of you ,
With zeal unchang'd, the many-colour'd hue
Of my capricious fortune could behold,
Nor ceas'd your generous bosoms to enfold
Your Brother and your Friend, when clouds the view
Oppress'd — when chearful hope to others flew,
And left me to despair — when all was cold
That heart or life endear'd — but that sweet home
That hail'd me in the morning and at noon,
The happiest of my race, with spirits bless'd,
With innocence and love: Alas! why roam
The pilgrims of the world? — Benighted soon,
They pant in vain for shelter, peace, and rest.
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