To francis Edmund Green.
“ Sweet memory! wafted by thy gentle gale,
the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours,
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
Who acts thus wisely, mark the moral muse,
A blooming Eden in his life renews.”
A VOLUNTARY exile from the shore
Of my forefathers, my dear native land,
Buoyant with hope, and schemes how vainly plann'd,
I came; for, like the Nautilus, I bore
My home above the waves I ventured o'er.
Two little years are gone. Death's cruel hand
Hath smitten, scatter'd that dear household band
Whose unity was never touch'd before.
Blame not the verse, my friend, if banishment
Hath made me rather turn unto the past,
Than to what is or shall be-temperate sadness
Best suits my alter'd fortunes; my intent
Hath been to soothe the present; so I cast
My thoughts back on my hours of former gladness.