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Vain idle wonder! little do they know
How recklessly the eye of sorrow dwells
On youth and loveliness! What charm has life
To her whose spirit sinks in one deep thought,
One feeling, where all others are absorb'd;
One lone grief, like the deadly plant which grows
And spreads its venom'd leaves, until around
Nought but a noxious poison'd spot is left,
Where blossoms, fruit, nor even weeds appear;
All lost in that one baleful influence.
Such, Adelaide, thy fate, e'en in thy morn!
Thy summer-day, when all seem'd fair around,
The desolating pow'r was hov'ring near;
And the sweet altar, where love's pure light shone,
Was levell'd with the dust; while the fond heart,
That had uprear'd it, sunk beneath the shock!
