All hail! inexorable lord!

At whose destruction-breathing word,

The mightiest empires fall!

Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,

The ministers of Grief and Pain

A sullen welcome, all!

With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye,

I see each aimed dart;

For one has cut my dearest tye,

And quivers in my heart.

Then low'ring, and pouring,

The Storm no more I dread;

Tho' thick'ning, and blackning,

Round my devoted head.

And thou grim Pow'r, by Life abhorr'd,

While Life a pleasure can afford,

O! hear a wretch's pray'r!

No more I shrink appall'd, afraid;

I court, I beg thy friendly aid,

To close this scene of care!

When shall my soul, in silent peace,

Resign Life's joyless day?

My weary heart it's throbbings cease,

Cold-mould'ring in the clay?

No fear more, no tear more,

To stain my lifeless face,

Enclasped, and grasped,

Within thy cold embrace!