Page:The Emigrants.pdf/17



Those that injustice, and duplicity And faithlessness and folly, fix on me: For never yet could I derive relief, When my swol'n heart was bursting with its sorrows, From the sad thought, that others like myself Live but to swell affliction's countless tribes! ­—Tranquil seclusion I have vainly sought; Peace, who delights solitary shade, No more will spread for me her downy wings, But, like the fabled Danaïds­—­or the wretch, Who ceaseless, up the steep acclivity, Was doom'd to heave the still rebounding rock, Onward I labour; as the baffled wave, Which yon rough beach repulses, that returns With the next breath of wind, to fail again.—­ Ah! Mourner­—cease these wailings: cease and learn,