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Of brutal appetite! at length worn out
With famine, and the avenging scourge of guilt,
Should dare dishonesty—yet dread to die!
With famine, and the avenging scourge of guilt,
Should dare dishonesty—yet dread to die!
Welcome ye savage lands, ye barbarous climes,
Where angry England sends her outcast sons—
I hail your joyless shores! my weary bark
Long tempest-tost on Life's inclement sea,
Here hails her haven! welcomes the drear scene,
The marshy plain, the briar-entangled wood,
And all the perils of a world unknown,
For Elinor has nothing new to fear
From fickle Fortune! all her rankling shafts
Barb'd with disgrace, and venom'd with disease,
Have pierced my bosom, and the dart of death
Has lost its terrors to a wretch like me.
Where angry England sends her outcast sons—
I hail your joyless shores! my weary bark
Long tempest-tost on Life's inclement sea,
Here hails her haven! welcomes the drear scene,
The marshy plain, the briar-entangled wood,
And all the perils of a world unknown,
For Elinor has nothing new to fear
From fickle Fortune! all her rankling shafts
Barb'd with disgrace, and venom'd with disease,
Have pierced my bosom, and the dart of death
Has lost its terrors to a wretch like me.
Welcome ye marshy heaths! ye pathless woods,
Where the rude native rests his wearied frame
Beneath the sheltering shade; where, when the storm,
Where the rude native rests his wearied frame
Beneath the sheltering shade; where, when the storm,
