SOUTHEY. 





Leads o’er a barren mountain's storm-vexed height, 
With wistful eye behold 
i Ah! vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road 
Some quiet vale, far off. 

i And there are those who love the pensive song, 
To whom all sounds of mirth are dissonant. 
Them in aecordant mood 
This thoughtful strain will find. | 

For hopeless Sorrow hails the lapse of Time, 
Rejoicing when the fading orb of day 

Is sunk again in night, 
fo) } 
That one more day is gone ! 
And he who bears Affliction’s heavy load 
With patient piety, well-pleased he knows 
The World’s a pilgrimage, 
The Grave his inn of reg¢, 

i 
a - = all — ae 
one eM —— 
= EBOTLAN LLL TS ES TRE SE AS VETERE Oe SORIA ES BP eC 
TE A A SBS SS A A SPE WUC SIS 
Se ee 
a 
a er 

“= — 
A’ 
t 


