Page:The Emigrants.pdf/23



I mourn your sorrows; for I too have known Involuntary exile; and while yet England had charms for me, have felt how sad It is to look across the dim cold sea, That melancholy rolls its refluent tides Between us and the dear regretted land We call our own­—as now ye pensive wait On this bleak morning, gazing on the waves That seem to leave your shore; from whence the wind Is loaded to your ears, with the deep groans Of martyr'd Saints and suffering Royalty, While to your eyes the avenging power of Heaven Appears in aweful anger to prepare The storm of vengeance, fraught with plagues and death. Even he of milder heart, who was indeed The simple shepherd in a rustic scene,