Poem by John Kenyon

Written at Schwytz

'Twas not satiety—disgust—
That led a wanderer forth to roam,
To look for hearts of firmer trust,
Or brighter eyes—thus far from home;
'Twas not for honour's prouder beat,
'Twas not for morals' chaster strain,
Nor law, that sways from holier seat,
With steadier hand or lighter rein;
Oh! not for these, dear English land,
He left thy billow-beaten shore;
And absence to that rocky strand
But binds his heart-strings more and more.
 
But art Thou one to crouch thy back
Compelled beneath a despot's frown,
Where threat the impaler and the rack
Beside the crosier and the crown;
If nourished high with ancient lore
Thy generous heart be sunk to groan,
And but in dreams to ponder o'er
The freedom Thou wouldst die to own;
Then, pensive traveller! rest thee here;
Let happier thoughts thy soul employ;
Rest by these hearths to freemen dear,
And give thy heart one pause of joy.

1. Flowers from Waterloo
2. Experimentum Crucis
3. Blushing
4. Brook of Sanguinetto, near the Lake of Thrasymene
5. Recalling

Print

1684 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version