S —I Th Ch O A R F（1 / 1）

ng— the character of a rued farr

tune—“go fro y dow, love, do”

the sun he is sunk the west,

all creatures retired to rest,

while here i sit, all re beset,

with rrow, grief, and woe:

and it&039;s o, fickle fortune, o!

the prospero an is asleep,

nor hears how the whirlds sweep;

but isery and i t watch

the surly tepest blow:

and it&039;s o, fickle fortune, o!

there lies the dear partner of y breast;

her cares for a ont at rest:

t i see thee, y youthful pride,

th brought very low!

and it&039;s o, fickle fortune, o!

there lie y sweet babies her ars;

no anxio fear their little hearts ars;

but for their sake y heart does ache,

with any a bitter throe:

and it&039;s o, fickle fortune, o!

i once was by fortune carest:

i once uld relieve the distrest:

now life&039;s poor support, hardly earn&039;d

y fate will scarce bestow:

and it&039;s o, fickle fortune, o!

no fort, no fort i have!

how wele to were the grave!

but then y wife and children dear—

o, wither would they go!

and it&039;s o, fickle fortune, o!

o whither, o whither shall i turn!

all friendless, forsaken, forlorn!

for, this world, rest or peace

i never ore shall know!

and it&039;s o, fickle fortune, o!