AH me! is all our pleasure mix'd with woe!
Is there on earth no happiness sincere?
Must e'en this bitter stream of sorrow flow
From joy's domestick spring, our children dear?
How oft did Thetis drop the silver tear,
When with fond eyes she view'd her darling boy!
How oft her breast heav'd with presaging fear,
Lest vice's secret canker should annoy
Fair virtue's op'ning bud, and all her hopes destroy!