Some bosom that will soothe my pain--
No friend is near to breathe relief,
Or brother to partake my grief.
For many a melancholy day
Thro' desert vales I've wound my way;
The faithful beast, whose back I press,
In groans laments her lord's distress;

In every quiv'ring of my spear
A sympathetic sigh I hear;
The camel bending with his load,
And struggling thro' the thorny road,
'Midst the fatigues that bear him down,
In Hassan's woes forgets his own;
Yet cruel friends my wanderings chide,
My sufferings slight, my toils deride.

Once wealth, I own, engrossed each thought,
There was a moment when I sought
The glitt'ring stores Ambition claims
To feed the wants his fancy frames;
But now 'tis past--the changing day
Has snatch'd my high-built hopes away,
And bade this wish my labors close--
Give me not riches, but repose.
'Tis he--that mien my friend declares,
That stature, like the lance he bears;
I see that breast which ne'er contain'd
A thought by fear or folly stain'd,
Whose powers can every change obey,