Page:Elegiac Sonnets 1.pdf/67

Rh

HE unhappy exile, whom his fates confine To the bleak coast of some unfriendly isle, Cold, barren, desart, where no harvests smile, But thirst and hunger on the rocks repine; When, from some promontory's fearful brow, Sun after sun he hopeless sees decline In the broad shipless sea—perhaps may know Such heartless pain, such blank despair as mine! And, if a flattering cloud appears to show The fancied semblance of a distant sail, Then melts awayanew his spirits fail, While the lost hope but aggravates his woe! Ah! so for me delusive Fancy toils, Then, from contrasted truth—my feeble soul recoils.