Governed by impulses of the moment,
The inroads of misery and grief
Are Blind to a thousand minute circumstances.
A thousand conflictions are rendered mute
by Dreary imaginations
Spent in listless indolence.
Occupied by gloomy thoughts,
A wretch, haunted by a curse, shuts up every avenue to enjoyment.
On willowy islands,
The laborer’s
are  Depressed in mind with Spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings
Enjoying happiness seldom tasted by man.
Casting black and impenetrable shades,
Mournful appearances are
Agitated by a tempest.