how long i have liv'd—but how much liv'd in vain,

how little of life's scanty span may remain,

what aspects old time in his progress has worn,

what ties cruel fate, in my bosom has torn.

how foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd!

and downward, how weaken'd, how darken'd, how pain'd!

life is not worth having with all it can give—

for something beyond it poor man sure must live.