Page:Poems of Nature and Life.djvu/260

 250 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE

But no ! man's hate will grudge me stones ;

My fate hath long been sealed ; Scarce will the ploughman let my bones

Lie scattered on his field, Lest they should breed his harvest's bane, Wither his grass, and blight his grain.

��Poor Andre', whose untimely fate

Was blest compared with mine ! In brooding on my lonely state,

How do I envy thine ! For thou wast loved and mourned, at least, Not shunned like some wild, treacherous beast.

O, native land, forever lost !

For thee I heave no sigh, Yet still must think at what dear cost

I'm forced from thee to fly ; Doomed to a traitor's deathless fame. Millions unborn shall curse my name.

My sword is rusty with the gore

Of countrymen and brothers ; I've made full many a sire deplore,

And many weeping mothers ; But this I long have ceased to prize ; In my revenge none sympathize.

Curst day, when to the foe I fled !

Scarce had I left the boat, When each that knew me turned more red

Than his own scarlet coat. The men drawn up before my tent Blushed at the order, " Arms present I "

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