SONG. IN Vain I strive to fly This Soul consuming Care, My Sorrows always nigh, And present every where. In vain I trace the Grove, There no Repose I find; What Place can banish Love From the subjected Mind. That pensive-falling Stream, Those Gales that whisper round, Increase the fatal Flame, And deeper fix the Wound. The silent Shades of night, Adds Horror to my Grief; The gay Return of Light To me brings no Relief.