Me, feebly bending o’er thy tomb,
He beckons to her COMMON HOME.—
Ah, human weakness! may a name,
Aspiring to no splendid fame,
Live, yet a little, in my SONGS
Of NEEDWOOD’S PRAISE and NEEDWOOD’S WRONGS!
MY GRAND CLIMACTERIC. 1802.
As one, who journeys over unknown lands,
Ere yet the sun withdraws his western ray,
Stops on some mountain’s brow, whose site commands