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I would desert my father's side, as long
As he continues in this baneful service,
But watch, a guardian angel, over him,
Till I behold his life-ship safely anchored
Upon the roadstead of his native land.
Alas! since then his headstrong will has lashed
To still more furious haste and maddened run
The fiery steeds that draw his chariot
Which neither tears nor prayers of mine could stay
Instead of hovering o'er his fate-doomed path
As friendly and inspiring genius,—
I self behold me dragged resistlessly
With every moment farther from the start,
Where left behind me lies the blooming wreath
Of all my fondest hope and happiness;
Where stand my friends in sorrow o'er my fate.
But impotent to check my doomed career.
So wretched must the exile feel, who leaning
Against the vessel's bord, that bears him 'way
Sees more and more his native country's coast
Fade out of sight, till it is gone for ever.


Ah! it is so! and clearly now I see.
How by my course I added to thy woe.
The attitude, which I have here assumed,
Of bold defiance to thy father's will
Must even more embitter him and cause