Ever since that hour, ye studious walks and shades,
Whose once sweet Memory now his spirit dreads,
Hath Dion pined with sharp regret and sorrow.
Blind choice—for since that word was given, the Sage,
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
{Hath droop'd and pined with sharp regret and sorrow, }
{Droops with a burthen of repentant sorrow, }
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow.
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed—albeit to prevent