Consternation, at bay is, even when
The throng, in mirth, your shadow smothers
Scrutiny, oh! the harsh introspection bothers,
Gray with murk, my hollow empyrean.
Oh! how muffled and choked my flame
Burns, an ennui in doleful exile
In drab oblivion, wasted, nay facile
And lo! who is but myself to blame!
But lament not for what is spent
And with fortitude, brace the balm of élan
The lambent lustre of the stringent flame
Gleams and bathes, in candour bent.
Discern your cause, and in virtue flicker,
The flame attains its gist, when burns the other.
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