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Bleſt ſocial home! And ye dear diſtant bow'rs!
Scenes of my youth, and all my bliſsful hours,
Where'er by fortune's hand neglected thrown,
This heart, this faithful heart, is all your own.
E'en now, weak nature, rous'd to keener pain,
Dwells on your charms, and bleeds in every vein.
Good Heav'n! what anguiſh wrung this boding heart
When the rough boatſwain gave the word to part.
Then firſt the tear, at nature's bidding, fell,
As bleeding Friendſhip preſs'd its long farewel.
Pale on mine arm connubial mildneſs hung;
Fond filial duty round my boſom clung.
Firm for their ſakes, along the ſurf-beat ſtrand,
And whiſp'ring peace, I led the weeping band;
Deceiv'd their thoughts from Auburn's much-lov'd plain,
And talk'd of happier feats beyond the main.
Poor aged man! ſince that eventful day,
Deſpair and terror mark'd thee for their prey.
War, ſickneſs, famine burſting on thine head,
Mock thy vain toils, and weigh thee to the dead.
Ah me! the words our pious preacher ſpoke,
When firſt to him my mournful mind I broke.
"Edwin," he ſaid, with looks of kind diſmay,
"Earth's meteor-hopes but glitter to betray.
"Thou canſt not fly from God's all chaſt'ning hand,
"Storms ſweep the ocean, diſcord blaſts the land,
"Life's various roads all center on the tomb."
Thus the meek ſage my raſh reſolve repreſt,
Whilſt tears of pity bath'd his hoary breaſt.
Oh! had I liſten'd to his wiſe alarms,
Then had I died at home in Friendſhip's arms.
Twelve tedious weeks we plough'd the wintry main,
