I dream'd I lay where flow'rs were springing,
Gaily in the sunny beam;
Tho' to the wild birds singing,
By a falling crystal stream.
Staight the sky grew black and daring,
While through the woods the whirlwinds rave, 
The trees with aged arms were warring,
Across the swelling drumlie wave.

Such was my life's deceitful morning,
Such the pleasures I enjoy'd;
But long ere noon loud tempest storming,
All my flow'ry bliss destroy'd.
Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me,
She promised fair, and perform'd but ill,
Of many a joy and hope bereav'd me,
I bear a heart shall support me still.