Officious Truth! unwelcome guest to most,
Yet I will own thee, and bid Hope good night,
Fond, soothing flatterer! Nineteen years are past,
Since first I listen'd to her pleasing lore;
Ah, me! how bright she painted future scenes,
And sweetly spoke of blessings yet unborn!
Now, fond Deceiver, where's the promis'd good?
But, Oh! thou'rt lovely, and I'll ne'er accuse
Or hate thee, tho' we never meet again.