Where dropp'd the acorn that gave birth to thee? Can'st thou trace back thy line of ancestry? We're match'd, old friend, and let us not repine, Darkness o'erhangs thy origin and mine; Both may be truly honourable: yet, We'll date our honours from the day we met; When, of my worldly wealth the parent stock, Right welcome up the Thames from Woolwich Dock Thou cam'st, when hopes ran high and love was young; But soon our olive-branches round thee sprung; Soon came the days that tried a faithful wife, The noise of children, and the cares of life. Then, midst the threat'nings of a wintry sky, _That cough_ which blights the bud of infancy, The dread of parents, Rest's inveterate foe, Came like a plague, and turn'd my songs to woe. Rest! without thee what strength can long survive, What spirit keep the flame of Hope alive? The midnight murmur of the cradle gave Sounds of despair; and chilly as the grave. We felt its undulating blast arise, Midst whisper'd sorrows and ten thousand sighs. Expiring embers warn'd us each to sleep, By turns to watch alone, by turns to weep, By turns to hear, and keep from starting wild, The sad, faint wailings of a dying child. But Death, obedient to Heav'n's high command, Withdrew his jav'lin, and unclench'd his hand; The little sufferers triumph'd over pain, Their mother smil'd, and bade me hope again. Yet Care gain'd ground, Exertion triumph'd less, Thick fell the gathering terrors of Distress; Anxiety, and Griefs without a name, Had made their dreadful inroads on my frame; The creeping Dropsy, cold as cold could be, Unnerv'd my arm, and bow'd my head to thee. Thou to thy trust, old friend, hast not been true; These eyes the bitterest tears they ever knew Let fall upon thee; now all wip'd away; But what from memory shall wipe out that day? The great, the wealthy of my native land, To whom a guinea is a grain of sand, I thought upon them, for my _thoughts_ were free, But all unknown were then my woes and me. Still, Resignation was my dearest friend, And Reason pointed to a glorious end; With anxious sighs, a parent's hopes and pride, I wish'd to live--I trust I could have died! But winter's clouds pursu'd their stormy way, And March brought sunshine with the length'ning day, And bade my heart arise, that morn and night Now throbb'd with irresistible delight. Delightful 'twas to leave disease behind, And feel the renovation of the mind! To lead abroad upborne on Pleasure's wing, Our children, midst the glories of the spring; Our fellow sufferers, our only wealth, To gather daisies in the breeze of health!