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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On Seeing An Officer's Widow Distracted</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O wretch! hath Madness cur'd thy dire Despair?<br>Yes--All thy Sorrows now are light as Air:<br>No more you mourn your once lov'd Husband's Fate,<br>Who bravely perish'd for a thankless State.<br>For rolling Years thy Piety prevail'd;<br>At length, quite sunk--thy Hope, thy Patience fail'd:<br>Distracted now you tread on Life's last Stage,<br>Nor feel the Weight of Poverty and Age:<br>How blest in this, compar'd with those, whose Lot<br>Dooms them to Miseries, by you forgot!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now, wild as Winds, you from your Off--spring fly,<br>Or fright them from you with distracted Eye;<br>Rove thro' the Streets; or sing, devoid of Care,<br>With ratter'd Garments, and dishevell'd Hair;<br>By hooting Boys to higher Phrenzy fir'd,<br>At length you fink, by cruel Treatment tir'd,<br>Sink into Sleep, an Emblem of the Dead,<br>A Stone thy Pillow, the cold Earth thy Bed.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O tell it not; let none the Story hear,<br>Lest Britain's Martial Sons should learn to fear:<br>And when they next the hostile Wall attack,<br>Feel the Heart fail, the lifted Arm grow slack;<br>And pausing cry--Tho' Death we scorn to dread,<br>Our Orphan Off--spring, must they pine for Bread?<br>See their lov'd Mothers into Prisons thrown;<br>And, unreliev'd, in iron Bondage groan?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">BRITAIN, for this impending Ruin dread;<br>Their Woes call loud for Vengeance on thy Head:<br>Nor wonder, if Disasters wait your Fleets;<br>Nor wonder at Complainings in your Streets:<br>Be timely wise; arrest th' uplifted Hand,<br>Ere Pestilence or Famine sweep the Land.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Mary+Barber">Mary Barber</a></strong></div>