Page:Excellent new song, called, Esk mill.pdf/3

Rh Now sighs when he thinks on the woes of E M

In fancy I warder where Nations uniting, Display their proud banners o’er hill and o’er dale; I hear the loud roar of the armies still fighting, I see of the battle the mournful detail. Poor remnant of armies how strongly escorted, I see their sad march my heart’s blood runs chill, Far, far from their kindred, with grief broken hearted, Slow pass the sad hours— woeful hours in E M.

Ye troublers of Nations, bow poor is your glory, The pages of History will blush with your crimes, Your deeds will seem darker your features more gory, When man, shuddering, views you, in all future times. But what is the gay round of Royalty shining, When sleep fly your couch as the wind o’er the hill; More happy the swain in cold poverty pining. More happy the Prisoner in gloomy E M.

Ye sailors bold that plough the ocean, see dangers landsmen never know, Some gain glory and promotion,