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A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes | ||
234
VIII.
Save me! what's yon shrouded shade?That wanders in the dark-brown glade.
It beckons me!—vain fears adieu,
Mysterious ghost, I follow you.
Ah me! too well that gait I know,
My youth's first firiend, my manhood's woe!
Its breast it bares! what! stain'd with blood?
Quick let me stanch the vital flood.
Oh spirit, whither art thou flown?
Why left me comfortless alone?
O Solitude, on me bestow
The heart-felt harmony of woe,
Such, such, as on th'Ausonian shore,
Sweet Dorian Moschus trill'd of yore:
No time should cancel thy desert,
More, more, than Bion was, thou wert.
A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes | ||