Lines
Addressed
to
a
Mother
in
Ireland
.
WILL
she
,
whose
kind
maternal
care
Enlighten'd
my
untutor'd
mind
,
Who
all
her
joys
with
me
did
share
,
But
to
her
breast
each
grief
confin'd
,
Accept
these
tears
that
freely
flow
—
Accept
this
tributary
lay
?
'Tis
all
that
friendship
can
bestow
,
Or
weeping
gratitude
repay
.
Whether
constraint
my
footsteps
lead
Amid
a
hated
world
,
or
free
I
wander
o'er
the
russet
mead
,
My
constant
thoughts
are
fix'd
on
thee
.
On
Lehena's
The
name
of
the
Writer's
native
place
.
enchanting
scene
,
I
muse
,
where
we
delighted
stray'd
;
The
sloping
hill
,
the
valley
green
,
The
lawn
in
brightest
flowers
array'd
.
Say
,
dost
thou
in
those
meadows
rove
,
Where
Taste
with
Nature
is
combin'd
?
Or
dost
thou
haunt
that
silent
grove
,
That
charm'd
so
oft
my
pensive
mind
?
O
may
those
scenes
a
bliss
bestow
Which
rural
life
alone
can
boast
;
And
thou
,
dear
friend
,
each
comfort
know
,
Which
by
thine
absence
I
have
lost
.
May
sprightly
Health
,
with
rosy
lip
Breathe
rich
vermilion
o'er
thy
cheek
!
Light
round
thy
paths
may
Pleasure
trip
,
And
young
Content
with
aspect
meek
!
May
Science
gild
each
tedious
hour
,
And
spread
her
stores
before
thine
eye
:
And
Friendship
with
resistless
power
,
Repress
each
sad
intruding
sigh
!
May
Peace
around
thine
honour'd
head
Her
fairest
olive
wreath
entwine
;
Soft
Slumbers
guard
thy
downy
bed
,
And
Hope
,
fond
charmer
,
still
be
thine
!
May
Truth
and
Innocence
descend
,
Their
purer
blessings
to
impart
;
Blessings
that
on
thyself
depend
,
Unknown
but
to
the
virtuous
heart
!
Yet
,
when
thy
circling
friends
appear
,
And
greet
thee
on
Ierne's
shore
,
Devote
one
sympathetic
tear
To
her
who
sees
thee
now
no
more
!