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A galling chain, whose pressure will intrude, Fettering Mirth's step, and Pleasure's lightest mood. Where are her thoughts thus wandering?—A spot, Now distant far, is pictured on her mind,— A chesnut shadowing a low white cot, With rose and jasmine round the casement twined, Mixed with the myrtle-tree's luxuriant blind. Alone, (oh! should such solitude be here?) An aged form beneath the shade reclined, Whose eye glanced round the scene;—and then a tear Told that she missed one in her heart enshrined! Then came remembrances of other times, When eve oped her rich bowers for the pale day; When the faint distant tones of convent chimes Were answered by the lute and vesper lay;—