Do they avert a dreaded grief?
Slaves bow before his slightest word,
And splendor decks his plenteous board;
Ah! sad relief for anxious care.
Ah! poor resort against despair.
With saddened brow the warrior stalks
Through stately halls and sheltered walks,
The leper’s curse is on him fixed;
With his best blood the plague is mixed,
And fleeting Time, he knows, full sure,