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Poems on Various Subjects

By John Thelwall. In Two Volumes

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[SCENE I.]

Chorus; Albert.
Chorus.
Behold, my friends, with pleasure in his looks,
Where our good, venerable host approaches;
Vigorous in age. Alas! how soon those locks,
Which deck with hoary dignity his brow,
Torn by his wretched hands, shall strew the earth!
Into whose bowels he, with broken heart,
Will soon I fear descend.

Albert.
How now, my friends!
What sunk in sullen and desponding thought!
Does this our once glad mansion yield no cheer
To rouse the sluggard sparks of sprightly glee
Within your drooping bosoms?

Chorus.
Wretched man!


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Albert.
What can this mean?

Chorus.
Oh man, to misery born!

Albert.
Almighty Pow'r! confounded and amaz'd
I stand. Oh friends, relieve my tortur'd mind!
Has any sad calamity befall'n
My aged wife? or she, the tender maid,
Whose dawning virtues are the only joy,
The only comfort of my wintry years?

Chorus.
The daughter whom you mention, if aright
These aged eyes discern, now bends this way.