F AAL'N the fair column, blasted is the bay,
That shaded once my solitary shore!
I've lost what hope can never give me more,
Though sought from Indus to the closing day.
My twofold treasure death has snatch'd away,
My pride, my pleasure, left me to deplore;
What fields far-cultur'd, nor imperial sway,
Nor orient gold, nor jewels can restore.
O destiny severe of human kind!
What portion have we unbedew'd with tears?
The downcast visage, and the pensive mind,
Through the thin veil of smiling life appears;
And in one moment vanish into wind
The hard-earn'd fruits of long, laborious years.