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 " Soon would I chuſe: but ere to-morrow's ſun

" Has o'er my head his radiant journey run,

" I ſhall be robb'd, by what they JUSTICE call,

" By legal ruffians, of my little all:

" Driv'n out to Hunger, Nakedneſs and Grief,

" Without one pitying hand to bring relief.

" Then come oh! ſad alternative to chuſe,

" Come, Baniſhment, I will no more refuſe.

" Go where I may, nor billows, rocks, nor wind,

" Can add of horror to my tortur'd mind;

" On whatſoever coaſt I may be thrown,

" No lord can uſe me harder than my own;

" Even they who tear the limbs and drink the gore,

" Of helpleſs ſtrangers, what can they do more?

" For thee, inſatiate chief! whoſe ruthleſs hand

" For ever drives me from my native land:

" For thee I leave no greater curſe behind,

" Than the fell bodings of a guilty mind;

" Or what were harder to a ſoul like thine,

" To find from avarice thy wealth decline.

" For you, my friends and neighbours, of the vale,

" Who now with kindly tears my fate bewail,

" Soon may your king, whoſe breaſt paternal glows,

" With tendereſt feelings for his peoples woes,

" Soon may the rulers of this mighty land,

" To eaſe your ſorrows ſtretch the helping hand,