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e vagrant Winds! You clouds that bear Thro' the blue desart of the air, Soft sailing in the Summer sky, Do e’er your wandering breezes meet, A wretch in misery so complete, So lost as I?

And yet, where’er your pinions wave O'er some lost friend's—some lover's grave, Surviving sufferers still complain; Some parent of his hopes deprived, Some wretch who has himself survived, Lament in vain.