In deep and careful solitude;
'And, when my task was finish'd, came
To seek the meed of praise or blame;
While, even then, untir'd I strove
To serve beneath the yoke of love.
Whene'er I mark'd a fearful look,
When pride, or when resentment, spoke,
I bent the tenor of my strain,
And trembled lest it were in vain.
By many an undiscover'd wile
I brought the pallid lip to smile,
Clear'd the maz'd thought for ampler scope,
Sustain'd the flagging wings of hope;
And threw a mantle over care
Such as the blooming Graces wear!
I made the friend resist his pride,
Scarce aiming what he felt to hide
From other eyes, his own implor'd
That kindness were again restor'd.
As generous themes engag'd my tongue
In pleadings for the fond and young:
Towards his child the father leant,
In fast-subsiding discontent:
I made that father's claims be felt,
And saw the rash, the stubborn, melt;
Nay, once, subdued, a rebel knelt.

"Thus skill'd, from pity's warm excess,
The aching spirit to caress;
Profuse of her ideal wealth,