AS the cold aspect of a sunless way
Strikes through the Traveller's frame with deadlier chill,
Oft as appears a grove, or obvious hill,
Glistening with unparticipated ray,
Or shining slope where he must never stray;
So joys, remembered without wish or will
Sharpen the keenest edge of present ill,--
On the crushed heart a heavier burthen lay.
Just Heaven, contract the compass of my mind
To fit proportion with my altered state! 10
Quench those felicities whose light I find
Reflected in my bosom all too late!--
O be my spirit, like my thraldom, strait;
And, like mine eyes that stream with sorrow, blind!
AS the cold aspect of a sunless way Strikes through the Traveller's frame with deadlier chill, Oft as appears a grove, or obvious hill, Glistening with unparticipated ray, Or shining slope where he must never stray; So joys, remembered without wish or will Sharpen the keenest edge of present ill,-- On the crushed heart a heavier burthen lay. Just Heaven, contract the compass of my mind To fit proportion with my altered state! 10 Quench those felicities whose light I find Reflected in my bosom all too late!-- O be my spirit, like my thraldom, strait; And, like mine eyes that stream with sorrow, blind!
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