And as, when heavy sleep has clos’d the sight, The sickly fancy labors in the night; We seem to run; and, destitute of force, Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course: In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry; The nerves, unbrac’d, their usual strength deny; And on the tongue the falt’ring accents die: So Turnus far’d; whatever means he tried, All force of arms and points of art employ’d, The Fury flew athwart, and made th’ endeavor void.
Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead, Two sable sheep around his hearse be led; Then, living turfs upon his body lay: This done, securely take the destin’d way, To find the regions destitute of day."
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The article is entitled Destitute and Desperate in the Land of Plenty.
The worst solitude is to be destitute of sincere friendship.