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Forsaking glory's high career, For her, than glory far more dear, Since hope's gay dream, and meteor ray, To distant regions points his way, That there affection's hands may dress, A fairy bower for happiness; That fond, devoted bard, though now, Time's wint'ry garland wreathes his brow, Though quenched the sunbeam of his eye, And fled his spirit's buoyancy; And strength and enterprise are past, Still follows, constant to the last!

Though his sole wish was but to die 'Midst the calm scenes of days gone by, And all that hallows and endears, The memory of departed years, Sorrow, and joy, and time, have twined To those lov'd scenes, his pensive mind; Ah! what can tear the links apart, That bind his chieftain to his heart?