CXLV

'Tis hard, 'tis hard, but it must be endured;
Nor through our suffering can I see the end
To which our drifting fortunes slowly tend
With nothing fixed, and no result assured.
Could I but say these trials have secured
A dawning hope; these shadowing lines shall bend
As a dark background round our lives, and lend
Love's beacon light, when we are safely moored!
But who shall find this future in the stars?
Or task my lyre to sound that prophet tone
Which fate with hasty scorn will not disown?
Alas, alas! my own foreboding mars
Our narrow prospect seen through woven bars,
Doubled in woe, because 'tis borne alone.