Tis The Eye Of Childhood That Fears

Virtue Preserv'd From Fell Destruction's Blast, Led On By Heaven, And Crown'd With Joy At Last.

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.

So Shows A Snowy Dove Trooping With Crows As Yonder Lady O'er Her Fellows Shows.

Farewell! A Long Farewell To All My Greatness!

The Clamorous Owl That Nightly Hoots And Wonders At Our Quaint Spirits.