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“ Go! tell my sisters that not long
I tarry now below :
I leave this world of woe.
“ This spot Retirement's calm retreat
I fondly hoped had been ;
I've found a chequered scene.
"Morning I vainly thought would cheer
Mỳ verdant couch with smiles; And Evening sweetly linger here,
As o'er her native isles.
“ Delusive dream! my helpless head
Feels every breeze that blows; And every cloud, that chills my bed,
A shade of suffering throws.
“ From every bird that flutters by,
Or bends the neighbouring bough: From every mist thou seest fly
Across yon mountain's brow:
“ From every foot that chance may bring
Along this silent vale:
That murmurs down the gale:
“ From every eye of yon rude band,
Whose hastening steps I hear : From every infant's playful hand
II have still to fear.
“ Why then should I desire to stay,
And linger here below,
A burthen brings of woe?
“Go, then, thou struggler! haste thee, hie
To thine own realms of rest :
Urge on, ye clouds! that gather dark
At the horizon's verge:
'Tis my funerëal dirge!
" Here tho wild winds have beat
head, And I had none to save : No troublous sound shall reach my bed
Of silence in the grave !"
-Now fell, as thro' a dream, a tear :
My soul responsive sighed: I started :-and on Fancy's ear
The tale of sorrow died !