God has endowed a precious gift to us,
It's the love of a mother which is so surplus ;
Even when the whole world becomes venomous,
She is the one who remain scrupulous. ...
In this mimic form of a matron in years,
How plainly the pencil of Denner appears!
The matron herself, in whose old age we see
Not a trace of decline, what a wonder is she!
No dimness of eye, and no cheek hanging low,
No wrinkle, or deep-furrow-d frown on the brow!
Her forehead indeed is here circled around
With locks like the ribbon with which they are bound;
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