IX.

Yet there is one who loved thee--and whose soul With mild affections nature form’d to melt; His mind hath bow’d beneath the stern control Of many a grief--but _this_ shall be unfelt! Years have gone by--and given his honour’d head A diadem of snow; his eye is dim; Around him Heaven a solemn cloud hath spread-- The past, the future, are a dream to him! Yet, in the darkness of his fate, alone[60] He dwells on earth, while thou in life’s full pride art gone!