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on the decline of health and genius.
For youth's rising energies gilded the hour,
And the quick throb of pleasure sprang high in each vein,
And Fancy imparted her magical pow'r
To each prize that Ambition was panting to gain.

Thus S———d, the dawn of thy morning was bright,
Thus lucid and warm was the beam of thy noon!
And Hope's fairy flatteries shed o'er thy sight
Rosy mists, which were destin'd to vanish too soon!

Bright forms, is it thus, that ye bloom and decay?
Is it thus, that ye glance in gay colours awhile?
Is it thus that ye fade with the swift-setting day,
Delusively promise, and transiently smile?

Yes S———d, thy day-star is waning apace,
And sorrow and sickness have chosen their hour,