Ye long-lost scenes, enchantments dear!
Lo! now I linger o'er your grave.
"—Fly, then, ye hours of rosy hue,
And bear away the bloom of years!
And quick succeed, ye sickly crew
Of doubts and sorrows, pains and fears!
"Still will I ponder Fate's unaltered plan,
Nor, tracing back the child, forget that I am man."[1]
1: Lines meditated in the cloisters of Christ's Hospital, in the "Poetics," of Mr. George Dyer.