IX.
Yet there is one who loved thee—and whose soul
With mild affections nature form’d to melt;
His mind hath bow’d beneath the stern control
Of many a grief—but this shall be unfelt!
Years have gone by—and given his honour’d head
A diadem of snow; his eye is dim;
Around him Heaven a solemn cloud hath spread—
The past, the future, are a dream to him!
Yet, in the darkness of his fate, alone[60]
He dwells on earth, while thou in life’s full pride art gone!