ABSTRACT
[…] B. Curse on the ship in evil hour that bore My jolted frame to India’s burning shore! An inauspicious hour, from which I date The bitter torments of a wretched fate: Deluded, listening to the tales they told, 5 Lands rich in mines, and rivers streaming gold; Whence twelve short years in Luxury’s lap beguiled, Would bear me homeward, Fortune’s favourite child, To pass my days in some secure retreat,a Or grace the mazes of St. James’s Street; 10 Even then, in fancy drawn with bays or roans, I seized the reins, and rattled o’er the stones; Oh! fond delusion! prospects nursed in vain, While, dressed in Sunday trim, the tradesmen’s wives Exclaimed, “Sweet gentleman, how well he drives!” 15 Or pleased amid Arcadian1 bowers I stood, Where fancy waved around the towering wood: A mansion too, some classic artist’s pride, Rose on the banks of a meandering tide, A well-known spot, where endless feasts invite 20 The neighbouring squire to hospitable rite. Oh! fond delusion! prospects nursed in vain, The rude creation of a thoughtless brain! A visionary image, formed to shun The melting gaze of India’s fervid sun! 25 Now, sad reverse! the rich delusion flies, House, park, and carriage vanish from my eyes! Condemned, alas! twelve tedious years to burn, Nor dare the vast expences of return, When all the savings of attentive care 30 100Would scarcely buy a cabin eight feet square; Content in England with a single room, And solitary nag without a groom. Alas! twice ten revolving years,a or more, Must prudence guide the helm and swell the store, 35 Not one rupee in useless frolic spent, And steady interest at eight per cent., Ere, scorched and fried from India’s shores, I fly, And taste the sweetness of my native sky: Then, recompence of past laborious days, 40 A snug estate might solace life’s decays. Yet, ah! what spot reflection can exclude, Or soothe the sad emotions that intrude? Who then remains of all the numerous band That called me “friend,” and grasp’d the willing hand? 45 Perhaps in pensive silence I may tread The honored turf where rests a parent’s head, Recalling to my mind, with many a sigh, The eager fond embrace, the last good-bye, Affection’s warmest wishes as I sailed, 50 The eye that uttered and the tongue that failed.
