Sailor's tragedy (4)/Ah teach thy breast
AH TEACH THY BREAST.
AH teach thy breast soft pity's throb,
And harmonize thy rugged mind;
Ah teach thy lid soft pity's tear,
That gem of sentiment refin’d.
Couldst thou once know the tender bliss
The sympathising knows.
When at meek sorrow's sacred touch,
Responsive sadness round it flows.
No more thy brow would wear that frown,
Thy glance no more so sternly dart,
But joys would glitter in thine eye,
And peace cling gladly to thy heart.