See yon tall stripling! how he droops forlorn!

How slow his pace! how spiritless his eye!

Like a dark cloud in summer's rosy dawn,

He saddens pleasure as he passes by.

Long kept in exile by paternal pride,

He feels no joy beneath this splendid dome;

For, till the elder child of promise died,

He knew a dearer, though a humbler home.

Then the proud sail was spread! The youth obey'd,

Left ev'ry friend, and every scene he knew;

For ever left the soul-affianc'd maid,

Though his heart sicken'd as he said—Adieu;

And nurses still, with superstitious care,

The sigh of fond remembrance and despair.