| Citation |
VGW(PA.737.070
2-9 Sep 1737:32, 41 (58)
[The paragraph that introduces this poem describes how it
was probably found in the pocket of a Wrexham wine merchant
and poet who had committed suicide]
Thro' the dark vale of misery,
With lonely steps I roam;
My lab'ring mind and clouded brow
Add darkness to the gloom.
Sooth me, Sophocles, nature's guide,
Friend to unhappy men;
Sad Ajax paint, or Paean's son,
Deserted and in pain;
Thy blind, old, exil'd Theban King,
The mark of horrors stood,
Patience and prudent age improv'd
His matchless woes to good.
The voice of wisdom speaks in thee,
Strong as the trumpets sound;
In vain, my weakness, Lord, forgive,
Or heal my soul's deep wound.
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