I.

Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care, A burden more than I can bear, I set me down and sigh: O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I! Dim-backward as I cast my view, What sick'ning scenes appear! What sorrows yet may pierce me thro' Too justly I may fear! Still caring, despairing, Must be my bitter doom; My woes here shall close ne'er But with the closing tomb!