Ambition, hate, or fierce desires
Long past—no longer conflicts wage.
Sadly thou breath’st the moral old,
Earth’s vanities—man’s chequer’d lot,
By seers and sages often told,
In life’s fierce tumults soon forgot.
As o’er the mould’ring wrecks of time
With silent step we pensive steal,
In every land, in every clime,
Oh! say, whence spring those thoughts we feel?