[Song.]

[SONG.]

HOW fondly I gaze on the fast falling-leaves, That mark, as I wander, the summer's decline; And then I exclaim, while my conscious heart heaves, "Thus early to droop and to perish be mine!"

Yet once I remember, in moments long past, Most dear to my sight was the spring's opening bloom; But then my youth's spring sorrow had not o'ercast, Nor taught me with fondness to look on the tomb.

Fair Spring! now no longer these grief-faded eyes Thy rich glowing beauties with pleasure can see; Thy pale sickly hues, chilly Autumn, I prize, They suit blighted hopes, and are emblems of me.