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Now sleep spreads wide his downy wings,
And flies from hence in sore affright;
While bitter pains and thrilling pangs
Keep the dark watch of dreary night.

The moon 's o'ercast with withering gloom,
And sorrows linger through the day;
Chill sadness rules the dismal scene,
And ceaseless anguish wastes away.

Return, sweet Hope! with magic power,
Thy smile benign can give relief,
Dispel the horrors of despair,
And gild this tenfold night of grief.




A FRAGMENT.Even to-day is my complaint bitter: my stroke is heavier than my groaning.—Job xxiii. 2.
If 't is a truth that in a world we dwell,
That God hath given, and to him belongs,—
Then 't is a truth that these the pains I bear
Are here described far less than I endure,
Who like a thing mysterious seem to those
Whom health hath blessed and needful rest sustained.