O Corsica! whose raging heats dismay,
When first returning summer pours her ray;
Yet fiercer plagues thy scorching shores dispense.
When Sirius sheds his baneful influence:
Spare, spare the banish'd! spare, since such his doom,
A wretch, who living, seeks in thee a tomb!
Light lay thy earth, in pity to his pains.
Light lay thy earth upon his lad remains.
II.
Barbara praeruptis inclusa est Corsica saxis;
Horrida, desertis undique vasta locis.
Non poma autumnus, segetes non educat aestas;
Canaque Palladio munere bruma caret;
Umbrarum nullo ver est laetabile soetu,
Nullaque in insaufto nascitur herba solo:
Non panis, non haustus aquae, non ultimus ignis.
Hic sola haec duo funt, exful, et exfilium.
O! Corsica, whom rocks terrific bound.
Where nature spreads her wildest delarts round.
In vain revolving seasons cheer thy foil.
Nor rip'ning fruits, nor waving harvests smile:
Nor blooms the olive mid the winter drear;
The votive olive to Minerva dear.
See, spring returning, spreads her milder reign!
Yet shoots no herb, no verdure clothes the plain.
No cooling springs to quench the traveller's thirst
From thy parch'd hills in grateful murmurs burst;
Nor, hapless isle! thy barren shores around.
Is wholesome food, fair Ceres' bounty, found.
