I dream’d I lay where flowers were springingGaily in the sunny beam;List’ning to the wild birds singing,By a falling crystal stream:Straight the sky grew black and daring;Thro’ the woods the whirlwinds rave;Tress with aged arms were warring,O’er the swelling drumlie wave.
Such was my life’s deceitful morning,Such the pleasures I enjoyed:But lang or noon, loud tempests stormingA’ my flowery bliss destroy’d.Tho’ fickle fortune has deceiv’d me—She promis’d fair, and perform’d but ill,Of mony a joy and hope bereav’d me—I bear a heart shall support me still.