Poems (Betham)/The Heir
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THE HEIR.
See yon tall stripling! how he droops forlorn!
How slow his pace! how spiritless his eye!
Like a dark cloud in summer's rosy dawn,
He saddens pleasure as he passes by.
How slow his pace! how spiritless his eye!
Like a dark cloud in summer's rosy dawn,
He saddens pleasure as he passes by.
Long kept in exile by paternal pride,
He feels no joy beneath this splendid dome;
For, till the elder child of promise died,
He knew a dearer, though a humbler home,
He feels no joy beneath this splendid dome;
For, till the elder child of promise died,
He knew a dearer, though a humbler home,
Then the proud sail was spread! The youth obey'd,
Left ev'ry friend, and every scene he knew;
For ever left the soul-afftanc'd maid,
Though his heart sicken'd as he said—Adieu;;
And nurses still, with superstitious care,
The sigh of fond remembrance and despair.
Left ev'ry friend, and every scene he knew;
For ever left the soul-afftanc'd maid,
Though his heart sicken'd as he said—Adieu;;
And nurses still, with superstitious care,
The sigh of fond remembrance and despair.