Although so feeble, led him on the way,
And hope look’d forward to a happier day:
He thought, poor prodigal! a father yet
His woes would pity and his crimes forget;
Nor had he brother who with speech severe
Would check the pity or refrain the tear:
A lighter spirit in his bosom rose,
As near the road he sought an hour’s repose.
And there he found it: he had left the town,
But buildings yet were scatter’d up and down;