Like a shipwreck'd Sailor tost By rough waves on a perilous coast, Lies the Babe, in helplessness And in tenderest nakedness, Flung by labouring nature forth 5 Upon the mercies of the earth. Can its eyes beseech?--no more Than the hands are free to implore: Voice but serves for one brief cry; Plaint was it? or prophecy 10 Of sorrow that will surely come? Omen of man's grievous doom! But, O Mother! by the close Duly granted to thy throes; By the silent thanks, now tending 15 Incense-like to Heaven, descending Now to mingle and to move With the gush of earthly love, As a debt to that frail Creature, Instrument of struggling Nature 20 For the blissful calm, the peace Known but to this _one_ release-- Can the pitying spirit doubt That for human-kind springs out From the penalty a sense 25 Of more than mortal recompense? As a floating summer cloud, Though of gorgeous drapery proud, To the sun-burnt traveller, Or the stooping labourer, 30 Oft-times makes its bounty known By its shadow round him thrown; So, by chequerings of sad cheer, Heavenly Guardians, brooding near, Of their presence tell--too bright 35 Haply for corporeal sight! Ministers of grace divine Feelingly their brows incline O'er this seeming Castaway Breathing, in the light of day, 40 Something like the faintest breath That has power to baffle death-- Beautiful, while very weakness Captivates like passive meekness. And, sweet Mother! under warrant 45 Of the universal Parent, Who repays in season due Them who have, like thee, been true To the filial chain let down From his everlasting throne,[769] 50 Angels hovering round thy couch, With their softest whispers vouch, That--whatever griefs may fret, Cares entangle, sins beset, This thy First-born, and with tears 55 Stain her cheek in future years-- Heavenly succour, not denied To the babe, whate'er betide, Will to the woman be supplied!