"Tell me, as here beneath this ivy bower,
That works fantastic round its trembling tower,
We hear Heaven's guilt-alarming thunders roar,
Tell me the pains and pleasures of the poor;
For Hope, just spent, requires a sad adieu,
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And Fear acquaints me I shall live with you.
"There was a time when, by Delusion led,
A scene of sacred bliss around me spread;
On Hope's, as Pisgah's lofty top, I stood,