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Though nature smile with aspect sweet,
And varying seasons circle round,
No more the struggling captive's feet
Can 'scape affliction's prison bound.

The refluent tide, the rolling wave
Alternate on the peaceful shore,
That oft to this glad spirit gave
A pensive rapture now no more.

Though every winged warbling choir
Awake the tenderest, sweetest strains,
No music, no seraphic lyre,
Can lighten these afflictive pains.

Now, fairest, wildest beauties reign
O'er every verdant vale and hill,
And, bright meandering o'er yon plain,
Glides softly on the murmuring rill.

Still all remains that once could please,
Could cheer and charm the tranquil mind,
But gone the peace, the joy, the ease,
That fondly round the heart-strings twined;

Are gone, alas! for ever gone:
Now pain and grief, and wan decay
Combine, and, in triumphant tone,
Proclaim my future life their prey.