The childless sire had hush'd his cares to rest:
And he, the victim of his country's laws,
The base deserter of her awful cause,
Whose eyes no more in earthly sleep shall close, }
Yet sunk oppress'd, and drank in calm repose }
A short, a deep oblivion of his woes. }

Diffusing verdure o'er a lonely glade,
A fountain with eternal murmurs play'd:
Hard by, an ancient forest's leafy brow
Cast a brown horror o'er the stream below,
On the green margin of the quiet flood,
With looks of woe, a time-worn Exile stood:
On the dim wave he cast a gloomy look,
Then thus in low and troubled accents spoke:

"Dear native stream! and thou, thrice happy lawn!
Where once I roved, in youth's first joyous dawn,
While every wind a holy silence kept,
And peaceful on the flood the sunbeam slept:
I now return, and ask of your kind wave
The last unenvied gift, a quiet grave!
From scene to scene of varied misery toss'd,
Each hope, each joy, each cheerful prospect lost,
With cares and labours many a year oppress'd,
I hail the dawn of everlasting rest!
Tho' worn with sufferings, my distracted soul
Scarce bows to former reason's firm controul,
Ere yet I sink to death's secure repose,
Once more let me retrace my ancient woes,