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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508041" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Botany Bay Eclogues 02 - Elinor</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(Time, Morning. Scene, the Shore.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once more to daily toil--once more to wear<br>The weeds of infamy--from every joy<br>The heart can feel excluded, I arise<br>Worn out and faint with unremitting woe;<br>And once again with wearied steps I trace<br>The hollow-sounding shore. The swelling waves<br>Gleam to the morning sun, and dazzle o'er<br>With many a splendid hue the breezy strand.<br>Oh there was once a time when ELINOR<br>Gazed on thy opening beam with joyous eye<br>Undimm'd by guilt and grief! when her full soul<br>Felt thy mild radiance, and the rising day<br>Waked but to pleasure! on thy sea-girt verge<br>Oft England! have my evening steps stole on,<br>Oft have mine eyes surveyed the blue expanse,<br>And mark'd the wild wind swell the ruffled surge,<br>And seen the upheaved billows bosomed rage<br>Rush on the rock; and then my timid soul<br>Shrunk at the perils of the boundless deep,<br>And heaved a sigh for suffering mariners.<br>Ah! little deeming I myself was doom'd.<br>To tempt the perils of the boundless deep,<br>An Outcast--unbeloved and unbewail'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why stern Remembrance! must thine iron hand<br>Harrow my soul? why calls thy cruel power<br>The fields of England to my exil'd eyes,<br>The joys which once were mine? even now I see<br>The lowly lovely dwelling! even now<br>Behold the woodbine clasping its white walls<br>And hear the fearless red-breasts chirp around<br>To ask their morning meal:--for I was wont<br>With friendly band to give their morning meal,<br>Was wont to love their song, when lingering morn<br>Streak'd o'er the chilly landskip the dim light,<br>And thro' the open'd lattice hung my head<br>To view the snow-drop's bud: and thence at eve<br>When mildly fading sunk the summer sun,<br>Oft have I loved to mark the rook's slow course<br>And hear his hollow croak, what time he sought<br>The church-yard elm, whose wide-embowering boughs<br>Full foliaged, half conceal'd the house of God.<br>There, my dead father! often have I heard<br>Thy hallowed voice explain the wonderous works<br>Of Heaven to sinful man. Ah! little deem'd<br>Thy virtuous bosom, that thy shameless child<br>So soon should spurn the lesson! sink the slave<br>Of Vice and Infamy! the hireling prey<br>Of brutal appetite! at length worn out<br>With famine, and the avenging scourge of guilt,<br>Should dare dishonesty--yet dread to die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Welcome ye savage lands, ye barbarous climes,<br>Where angry England sends her outcast sons--<br>I hail your joyless shores! my weary bark<br>Long tempest-tost on Life's inclement sea,<br>Here hails her haven! welcomes the drear scene,<br>The marshy plain, the briar-entangled wood,<br>And all the perils of a world unknown.<br>For Elinor has nothing new to fear<br>From fickle Fortune! all her rankling shafts<br>Barb'd with disgrace, and venom'd with disease.<br>Have pierced my bosom, and the dart of death<br>Has lost its terrors to a wretch like me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Welcome ye marshy heaths! ye pathless woods,<br>Where the rude native rests his wearied frame<br>Beneath the sheltering shade; where, when the storm,<br>As rough and bleak it rolls along the sky,<br>Benumbs his naked limbs, he flies to seek<br>The dripping shelter. Welcome ye wild plains<br>Unbroken by the plough, undelv'd by hand<br>Of patient rustic; where for lowing herds,<br>And for the music of the bleating flocks,<br>Alone is heard the kangaroo's sad note<br>Deepening in distance. Welcome ye rude climes,<br>The realm of Nature! for as yet unknown<br>The crimes and comforts of luxurious life,<br>Nature benignly gives to all enough,<br>Denies to all a superfluity,<br>What tho' the garb of infamy I wear,<br>Tho' day by day along the echoing beach<br>I cull the wave-worn shells, yet day by day<br>I earn in honesty my frugal food,<br>And lay me down at night to calm repose.<br>No more condemn'd the mercenary tool<br>Of brutal lust, while heaves the indignant heart<br>With Virtue's stiffled sigh, to fold my arms<br>Round the rank felon, and for daily bread<br>To hug contagion to my poison'd breast;<br>On these wild shores Repentance' saviour hand<br>Shall probe my secret soul, shall cleanse its wounds<br>And fit the faithful penitent for Heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Southey">Robert Southey</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508041" data-title="Botany Bay Eclogues 02 - Elinor de Robert Southey" data-description="(Time, Morning. Scene, the Shore.)

Once more to daily toil--once more to wear
The weeds of infamy--from every joy
The heart can feel excluded, I arise
Worn out and faint with unremitting woe;
And once again with wearied steps I trace
The hollow-s..."></div>
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