Pale Roamer through the night! thou poor Forlorn! Remorse that man on his death-bed possess, Who in the credulous hour of tenderness Betrayed, then cast thee forth to want and scorn! The world is pitiless: the chaste one's pride Mimic of Virtue scowls on thy distress: Thy Loves and they, that envied thee, deride: And Vice alone will shelter wretchedness! O! I could weep to think, that there should be Cold-bosomed lewd ones, who endure to place Foul offerings on the shrine of misery, And force from famine the caress of Love; May He shed healing on the sore disgrace, He, the great Comforter that rules above! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE ROAD TO CHORRERA by ARLO BATES THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN by JULIA CRAWFORD ASTRAEA by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER INSULTING BEAUTY by JOHN WILMOT |