Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/223

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TRAVELLER.Rascals! a mean artOf cruel cowardice, yet all in vain!WOMAN.Yes Sir! and they should show no mercy to themFor making use of such unchristian arms.I had a letter from the hospital,He got some friend to write it, and he tells meThat my poor boy has lost his precious eyes,Burnt out. Alas! that I should ever liveTo see this wretched day!—they tell me SirThere is no cure for wounds like his. Indeed'Tis a hard journey that I go uponTo such a dismal end!TRAVELLER.He yet may live.But if the worst should chance, why you must bearThe will of heaven with patience. Were it notSome comfort to reflect your son has fallenFighting his country's cause? and for yourself
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