Has He of late exempted Plymouth's men—
Reversed his justice and made sin no fault?
Taught them to covet of their neighbor's store,
And licensed robbery of the weak and poor?
L.
"Behold these hands, which labor has made hard,—
Look at this weather-beaten brow and face,—
And ask yourself if to be thus debarred
And hunted from their fruits like beast of chase,
Demands not meekness more than God has spared
To human hearts in his abundant grace!
Followed e'en here!—Again compelled to flee!
As if this desert were too good for me!
LI.
"But I can go.—Oh, yes! I can submit;—
God in his mercy will give shelter still;
Go—tell your Dudley in the book 'tis writ
That the oppressor shall hereafter feel;
Yet, gracious Lord, grant that repentance fit
Him to receive the everlasting seal
Of thy salvation—that his lost estate
Be yet revealed, ere it is all too late!
LII.
"Grieve not, my Mary!—Children, do not weep!
Though yonder verdant lawns, and opening flowers,
And groves whose shades the murmuring streamlets sweep,
All perish for us now,—yet on far shores,
Perchance by yon blue bay or rolling deep,
Far from white brethren, mid barbarian powers,
Your father's hands another glade may form,—
Another roof to shield you from the storm."
