I dream’d I lay where flowers were springing
Gaily in the sunny beam;
List’ning to the wild birds singing,
Bya falling crystal stream:
Straight the sky grew black and daring;
Thro’ the woods the whirlwinds rave;
Tress with aged arms were warring,
O’er the swelling drumliewave.

Such was my life’s deceitful morning,
Such the pleasures I enjoyed:
But langornoon, loud tempests storming
A’my flowery bliss destroy’d.
Tho’ fickle fortune has deceiv’d me-
She promis’d fair, and perform’d butill,
Of mony a joy and hope bereav’d me-
I beara heart shall support me still.