Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/154

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Hard was thy Fate, which, while it doom'd to woe,Denied thee wisdom to support the blow;And robb'd of all its energy thy mind,Ere yet it cast thee on thy fellow-kind,Abject of thought, the victim of distress,To wander in the world's wide wilderness.
Poor Outcast sleep in peace! the wintry stormBlows bleak no more on thine unshelter'd form;Thy woes are past; thou restest in the tomb;—I pause—and ponder on the days to come.1795. 
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