Lo, on her dying couch, the sufferer lies,
While meager poverty stands shivering by,
And pallid want, with nearly-closed eye,
And conscious guilt, that heaves unbidden sighs!
Fast down her cheeks fall penitential tears,
To Heaven she turns, and now she meekly prays;
Her breast alternate throbs with hopes and fears,
Which now depress, and now sweet comfort raise.
Go, base deceiver, view the dreadful scene -
Go, view the victim that thine arts betrayed;
Who, but for thee, had blest with virtue been;
Who, but for thee, had ne'er from honor strayed.
And keen remorse shall wake a pang of woe,
That only crimes like thine can ever know.
While meager poverty stands shivering by,
And pallid want, with nearly-closed eye,
And conscious guilt, that heaves unbidden sighs!
Fast down her cheeks fall penitential tears,
To Heaven she turns, and now she meekly prays;
Her breast alternate throbs with hopes and fears,
Which now depress, and now sweet comfort raise.
Go, base deceiver, view the dreadful scene -
Go, view the victim that thine arts betrayed;
Who, but for thee, had blest with virtue been;
Who, but for thee, had ne'er from honor strayed.
And keen remorse shall wake a pang of woe,
That only crimes like thine can ever know.