Swiftly thro’ the streets he hies.
Poor, forlorn, and hapless creature,
Victim of insanity!
Sure it speaks a ruthless nature,
To oppress a wretch like thee.
When, by generous friends protected,
All thy actions told thee mild,
Tho’ by reason undirected,
And the prey of fancies wild.
Of those friends did Heav’n deprive thee,