Sweet solitude! when life’s gay hours are past,
Howe’er we range, in thee we fix at last.
Tossed through tempestuous seas, the voyage o’er,
Pale we look back and bless the friendly shore.
Our own strict judges, our past life we scan
And ask if glory hath enlarged the span;
If bright the prospect we the grave defy,
Trust future ages, and contented die.
THE END.