To Mr *****

TO MR *****

Unus'd to every soothing sound, Inur'd to every sorrow; To day you vainly bind the wound That bleeds afresh to-morrow.

The world beholds with careless eye, And much I scorn their pity; Unseen, to heave the bursting sigh, I leave the crowded city.

And dost thou ask my falt'ring tongue, To tell a tale of woe? The griefs my youthful breast have wrung Oh! may'st thou never know!

Long have I bore an orphan's name, And shar'd an orphan's fate; Few friends I have, or dare to claim, Such is my helpless state.

The simple dictates of my heart To public view they force; Not pride, but pain does this impart; It is my last resource.