And when thy father frowns severe,
Although my spirit faints with fear,
I feel I have a comfort near.

And when he harshly speaks to me,
If thou art smiling on my knee,
He softens as he looks on thee.

To soothe him in an evil hour
The bud has balm, oh! may the flower
Possess the same prevailing power!

Nor forc'd to leave thy native land,
To pledge a cold, unwilling hand,
May'st thou receive the hard command.

My mother had not half the zeal,
The aching fondness which I feel,
She had no broken heart to heal!

And I was friendless when she died,
Who could my little failings chide,
And for an hour her fondness hide.

But I can see no prospect ope,
Can give no fairy vision scope,
If thou art not the spring of hope.

I cannot thy affection draw,