Vengeance in ambush at his foot.
Wavering alike in mind and pace,
I roam, familiar haunts to trace;
The winds, that bow me as I go,
Rush unrestrain’d, as wild with woe,
Or querulously vex’d to miss
The blooming groves they lov’d to kiss.
Each spot discover’d has its tale;
Seems a friend’s voice in every gale;
Wak’d Recollection starts aghast,