On
seeing
an
Officer's
Widow
distracted
who
had
been
driven
to
Despair
,
by
a
long
and
fruitless
Sollicitation
for
the
Arrears
of
her
Pension
.
O
wretch
!
hath
Madness
cur'd
thy
dire
Despair
?
Yes
—
All
thy
Sorrows
now
are
light
as
Air
:
No
more
you
mourn
your
once
lov'd
Husband's
Fate
,
Who
bravely
perish'd
for
a
thankless
State
.
For
rolling
Years
thy
Piety
prevail'd
;
At
length
,
quite
sunk
—
thy
Hope
,
thy
Patience
fail'd
:
Distracted
now
you
tread
on
Life's
last
Stage
,
Nor
feel
the
Weight
of
Poverty
and
Age
:
How
blest
in
this
,
compar'd
with
those
,
whose
Lot
Dooms
them
to
Miseries
,
by
you
forgot
!
Now
,
wild
as
Winds
,
you
from
your
Off-spring
fly
,
Or
fright
them
from
you
with
distracted
Eye
;
Rove
thro'
the
Streets
;
or
sing
,
devoid
of
Care
,
With
ratter'd
Garments
,
and
dishevell'd
Hair
;
By
hooting
Boys
to
higher
Phrenzy
fir'd
,
At
length
you
fink
,
by
cruel
Treatment
tir'd
,
Sink
into
Sleep
,
an
Emblem
of
the
Dead
,
A
Stone
thy
Pillow
,
the
cold
Earth
thy
Bed
.
O
tell
it
not
;
let
none
the
Story
hear
,
Lest
Britain's
Martial
Sons
should
learn
to
fear
:
And
when
they
next
the
hostile
Wall
attack
,
Feel
the
Heart
fail
,
the
lifted
Arm
grow
slack
;
And
pausing
cry
—
Tho'
Death
we
scorn
to
dread
,
Our
Orphan
Off-spring
,
must
they
pine
for
Bread
?
See
their
lov'd
Mothers
into
Prisons
thrown
;
And
,
unreliev'd
,
in
iron
Bondage
groan
?
BRITAIN
,
for
this
impending
Ruin
dread
;
Their
Woes
call
loud
for
Vengeance
on
thy
Head
:
Nor
wonder
,
if
Disasters
wait
your
Fleets
;
Nor
wonder
at
Complainings
in
your
Streets
:
Be
timely
wise
;
arrest
th'
uplifted
Hand
,
Ere
Pestilence
or
Famine
sweep
the
Land
.