And many a one, whose harder fate has given,
Some early woes, by thee to madness driven,
Sees the sad vision of some bygone day,
And thinks on what he hath seen with dismay:
So some lone murderer, wanders o'er the world
By thy dread arm to desperation hurl'd;
In vain he prays, or bends the lowly knee,
With fiendlike power, thou dragg'st him back with thee,
Point'st to some scene of early guilt and woe,
Opening the source from whence his sorrows flow.