O’er one brief hour of life a fleeting ray,
Then leave the rest to solitude and woe!
Oh! who shall dare to woo such dreams again!
Who hath not wept to know that tears for thee were vain?
IX.
Yet there is one who loved thee—and whose soul
With mild affections nature form’d to melt;
His mind hath bow’d beneath the stern control
Of many a grief—but this shall be unfelt!
Years have gone by—and given his honour’d head