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Updated: May 2, 2025
ISABELLA. Thrice blest the day, when every gloomy care From my o'erlabored breast has flown. I see On steadfast columns reared our kingly race, And with contented spirit track the stream Of measureless time. In these deserted halls, Sad in my widow's veil, but yesterday Childless I roamed; and soon, in youthful charms Arrayed, three blooming daughters at my side Shall stand! Oh, happiest mother!
The glittering idol can not touch the crippled beggar and put health and strength in his limbs, but if the poor sufferer can sleep better upon the cold stones in the presence of his patron saint than elsewhere, in charity's name let him, "O'erlabored with his being's strife Shrink to that sweet forgetfulness of life." I wandered on.
I certainly should have seen those feet. However did you get 'em into the bar?" Give us our rest, O Father, in thine own appointed time and of thy gracious olden fashion. Lay thy annulling seal upon the o'erlabored heart: drop thy healing nepenthe into the weary brain. Teach us not to fear that which brings us nearer to Thee.
"Ill-fated land! now wasted By thy unnatural sons, ere long the prey Of foeman's sword! Oh, haste," you cried, "and end This strife! bring peace again, or soon Messina Shall bow to other lords." Your stern decree Prevailed; this heart, with all a mother's anguish O'erlabored, owned the weight of public cares.
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