Would ever thus by me be mourn'd.
Ne'er thought I ever thus should stand,
The butt of every tearful eye;
To raise the Culprit's trembling hand,
To heave the Culprit's anxious sigh.
Now the mournful truth to prove,
Gazing crouds around I see,
For sure 'tis cruel selfish love
That brings them here to gaze on me.
'Tis thus wherever human woe,