Lost in thy speed from my unhappy doom.
The fond illusions of my love are gone,
Fled never to return! and with them borne
Peace, happiness and hope: the veil is drawn,
And the bared cheat shows frenzy’s end alone.
O! how the memory of pleasures past
Now wearies me! horrible that soul’s state,
Of flowers of hope, or freshness desolate!
What then remains it? Bitterness o’ercast.
This south wind kills me: O! that I could rest