Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/106

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

90

Of brutal appetite! at length worn outWith 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 barkLong 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 fearFrom fickle Fortune! all her rankling shaftsBarb'd with disgrace, and venom'd with disease,Have pierced my bosom, and the dart of deathHas lost its terrors to a wretch like me.
Welcome ye marshy heaths! ye pathless woods,Where the rude native rests his wearied frameBeneath the sheltering shade; where, when the storm,
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.