American watchman and Delaware advertiser. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1822-1828, 1822-07-19
TO MY DAUGHTER


ON THE MORNING OF HER BIRTHDAY.
BY LORD BYRON.
Hail TO this teeming stage OF strife
Hail, lovely miniature OF lie!
Pilgrim OF many cares untold
Lamb Of the worlds extended fold
Fountain of hopes, and doubts, and fears
Sweet Promise of ecstatic years!
How family would bend the knee,
And turn idolator to thee!
IT'S natures orship-felt-confessed
Far as the life which warns the breast
The sturdy savage midst his clan,
The rudest portraiture of man,
In trackless woods and boundless plains,
Where everlasting wildness reigns,
Owns the still throb-the secret start.
The hidden impulse Of the heart.
Dear babe ere yet upon thy years
The soil of human vice appears
Ere passion hath disturbed thy cheek,
And prompted what thou darest not speak;
Ere that pale lip is banched with care,
Or from those eyes shoot fierce despair,
Would could meet thine unturned ear
And gust i, with fathers prayer.
But little reck'st thou, oh my child!
Of travail on lilies thorny wild,
OF all the dangers, all the woes
Each lettering footstep which enclose
An! little reck'st thou of the scene
So darkly wrought, that spreads between
The little all we here can find,
And the dark mystic sphere behind
Little reck'st thou, my earliest born,
OF clouds that gather round thy morn,
OF arts to lure thy soul astray,
Ofsnares that intersect the way,
OF secret Goes, oflriends untrue,
Of hends who stab the heart they woo~--
Little thou reckst of this sad store
Would thou might never reck them more!
But thou wilt burst this transient sleep,
And thou wilt wake, my babe TO weep
The tenant Of fral abode,
Thy ears must flow as mine have flowed
Btguiled by tollies every day,
Sorrow must wash the faults away;
And thou may'st wake. perchance, to prove
The pang Of unrequited love.
Unconscious babe though on that brow
No haf-hedged misery nestles now
Scarce round those placid lips smile
Maternal fondness shall beguile,
Ere the moist footsteps OF tear
Shall plant their dewy traces there,
And prematurely pave the way
For sorrows Of ripper day.
oh could fathers prayer repeI
The eye'- sad grief, the hosom's swell;
Or could father hope to bear
A darling child's allotted care
Then thou. my babe should sIumber still,
Exempted from all human i'll;
A parents love thy peace shall free,
And ask its wounds again for thee.
Sleep on, my child, the slumber brief
Too soon shall melt away to grief
Too soon the dawn of woe shall break,
And briny rills bedew thy cheek
Too soon shall sadness quench those eyes
THAT breast be agonzed with signs;
And anguish DER the beams of noon
Lead clouds of care--ah much too soon.
Soon wilt thou reck of cares unknown,
Ofwants and sorrows all their own,
Of many pang and many woe,
THAI thy dear sex alone can know
OF many an i'll. untold, unsung,
That will not may not, ind tongues
But kept conceald, without controul
Spread the fell cancers of the SOUL
Yet be thy lot, my babe more best--
May 10Y still animate thy breast
Still, midst thy least propitous days,
Shedding its rich inspiring rays!
A fathers heart shall daily bear
Thy name upon its secret prayer;
And as he seeks his last repose,
Thine image ease LIES parting throes.
Then hail, sweet miniature of life!
Hail to tits teeming stage OF strife!
Pilgrim Of many cares untold
Lamb of the worlds extended fold
Fountain Of hopes, and doubts, and fears
Sweet promise of ecstatic years!
How family could ] bend the knee,
And turn idolator to thee.
This article is given in the Museum OF this
az an hitherto unpublished poem of Lord Bry