“Thou too, farewell! my country! since in vain
    I strove to snatch thee from the eternal chain;
    Thou, of whose glory future tongues shall tell,
    Mother of kings and heroes—­fare thee well! 
    What human thought and prudence could sustain,
    For thee I proved, and proved that all was vain;
    And could my single toils protection give,
    Armies might sleep, and Stenon yet might live. 
    For thee I could refuse with fame to fall, }
    When glorious death stood ready at my call; }
    For thee I rush’d thro’ ills, for thee despised them all. }
    Farewell!—­thy rocks, thy skies, thy mountains blue,
    Where’er I turn, shall seem to meet my view;
    While Hope, unterrified by all the past,
    Shall pierce thro’ future years, and view thee free at last!

      “God of my sires! if studious to fulfill
    In every point thy uncontested will,
    I long have struggled, careless to escape,
    With ills of every size, of every shape;
    If still from Superstition’s darkness free,
    My heart has breathed a purer prayer to thee,
    While erring millions with vain worship stained
    Thy holy altars, and thy praise profaned;
    If now, obeying thy implied command,
    I quit at length this long-disputed land: 
    Assist me still!—­and grant my native shore
    One hour of rest, one tranquil season more! 
    Enough her ancient crimes have teem’d with woes;
    Let her long griefs be paid with short repose: 
    Or, if I seek that kind reprieve in vain,
    Let future years, at least, dissolve her chain! 
    Protect my honoured mother:  and assuage
    The woes that wreck my sister’s youthful age:—­
    If yet on earth the beauteous flow’ret bloom,
    Or wither’d moulder in the silent tomb,
    I must not know—­Enough—­thy gracious will
    Divides, with equal measure, good and ill!—­
    To them, if aught I merit, be it given;
    And grant them peace on earth, or bliss in heaven. 
    I will not name them more—­the mournful name
    Would damp with grief my soul’s reviving flame. 
    To safe retreats my fellow-patriots lead,
    Reward their labours, and their vows succeed;
    Nor let one soul repine he ever fought
    For virtuous praise, or deem it dearly bought!”

      Scarce had he finish’d, when o’er rock and dell
    A sudden stream of yellow splendour fell,
    As if a star, with sunlike lustre crown’d,
    Dropp’d instantaneous thro’ the blue profound. 
    His heaving breast the joyful omen cheer’d,
    And now thro’ parting clouds the moon appear’d.

      Beneath her glimmering light the chief survey’d
    A stranger-youth advancing thro’ the shade. 
    His stately air, his gold-embroider’d vest,
    And towering step superior birth confess’d;
    But time, and mental storms, had changed a mien
    By godlike Vasa once with pleasure seen: 
    Tho’ recent hope and transport half effaced
    The lines, which sorrow had so lately traced.