# The Emigrant (Erskine, 1800)/The emigrant

Date is estimated
THE
EMIGRANT.
"Nos patriae fines, et dulcia linquimus arva, "Nos patriam fugimus;-"Virgil.
"We leave our country and our native plains."
FAST by the margin of a moſſy rill, That wandered, gurgling, down a heath-clad hill, An ancient ſhepherd ſtood, oppreſs'd with woe, And ey'd the ocean's flood that foam'd below; Where, gently rocking on the riſing tide, A ſhip's unwonted form was ſeen to ride. Unwonted, well I ween; for ne'er before, Had touch'd one keel, the ſolitary ſhore; Nor had the ſwain's rude footſteps ever ſtray'd, Beyond the ſhelter of his native ſhade. His few remaining hairs were ſilver grey, And his rough face had ſeen a better day. Around him, bleating, ſtray'd a ſcanty flock, And a few goats o'erhung the neighbouring rock. One faithful dog his ſorrows ſeem'd to ſhare, And ſtrove, with many a trick to eaſe his care. While o'er his furrow'd cheeks, the ſalt drops ran, He tun'd his ruſtic reed, and thus began: ​" Farewel! farewel! dear Caledonia's ſtrand, " Rough though thou be, yet ſtill my native land, " Exil'd from thee I ſeek a foreign ſhore, " Friends, kindred, country, to behold no more: " By hard Oppreſſion driv'n, my helpleſs age, " That ſhould ere now have left Life's buſtling ſtage, " Is forc'd the ocean's boiſt'rous breaſt to brave, " In a far foreign land to ſeek a grave.
" And muſt I leave thee then, my little cot! " Mine and my father's poor, but happy, lot, " Where I have paſs'd in innocence away, " Year after year, till Age has turn'd me grey?
{[em}}" Thou, dear companion of my happier life, " Now to the grave gone down, my virtuous wife, " 'Twas here you rear'd with fond maternal pride, " Five comely ſons: three for their country died! " Two ſtill remain, ſad remnant of the wars, " Without one mark of honour but their ſcars; " They live to ſee their fire denied a grave, " In lands his much lov'd children died to ſave: " Yet ſtill in peace and ſafety did we live, " In peace and ſafety more than wealth can give, " My two remaining boys, with ſturdy hands, " Rcar'd the ſcant produce of our niggard lands: " Scant as it was, no more our hearts deſir'd, " No more from us our gen'rous lord requir'd.
" But ah, ſad chang ! thoſe bleſſed days are o'er, " And Peace, Content, and Safety charm no more. ​" Another lord now rules thoſe wide domains, " The avaricious tyrant of the plains, " Far, far from hence he revels life away, " In guilty pleaſures, our poor means muſt pay. " The moſſy plains, the mountain's barren brow, " Muſt now be tortur'd by the rearing plough, " And, ſpite of nature, crops be taught to riſe, " Which to theſe northern climes wiſe Heav'n denies. " In vain, with ſweating brow and weary hands, " We ſtrive to earn the gold our lord demands, " While cold and hunger, and the dungeon's gloom, " Await our failure as its ccrtain doom.
" To ſhun theſe ills that threat my hoary head, " I ſeek in foreign lands precarious bread; " Forc'd, tho' my helpleſs age from guilt be pure, " The pangs of baniſh'd felons to endure; " And all becauſe theſe hands have vainly try'd " To force from art what nature has deny'd; " Becauſe my little all will not ſuffice " To pay th' inſatiate claims of Avaricc.
" In vain, of richer climates I am told, " Whoſe hills are rich in gems, whoſe ſtreams are gold, " I am contented here, I ne'er have feen " A valc morc fertile, nor a hill more green, " Nor would I leave this ſweet, though humble cot, " To ſhare the richeſt monarch's envied lot. " O! would to Heavcn the alternative were mine, " Abroad to thrive, or here in want to pine, ​" Soon would I chuſe: but ere to-morrow's ſun " Has o'er my head his radiant journey run, " I ſhall be robb'd, by what they JUSTICE call, " By legal ruffians, of my little all: " Driv'n out to Hunger, Nakedneſs and Grief, " Without one pitying hand to bring relief. " Then come oh! ſad alternative to chuſe, " Come, Baniſhment, I will no more refuſe. " Go where I may, nor billows, rocks, nor wind, " Can add of horror to my tortur'd mind; " On whatſoever coaſt I may be thrown, " No lord can uſe me harder than my own; " Even they who tear the limbs and drink the gore, " Of helpleſs ſtrangers, what can they do more?
" For thee, inſatiate chief! whoſe ruthleſs hand " For ever drives me from my native land: " For thee I leave no greater curſe behind, " Than the fell bodings of a guilty mind; " Or what were harder to a ſoul like thine, " To find from avarice thy wealth decline.
" For you, my friends and neighbours, of the vale, " Who now with kindly tears my fate bewail, " Soon may your king, whoſe breaſt paternal glows, " With tendereſt feelings for his peoples woes, " Soon may the rulers of this mighty land, " To eaſe your ſorrows ſtretch the helping hand, ​" Elſe ſoon, too ſoon, your hapleſs fate ſhall be, " Like me to ſuffer, to depart like me.
" On your dear native land, from whenee I part, " Reſt the beſt bleſſing of a broken heart. " If in ſome future hour, the foe ſhould land " His hoſtile legions on Britannia's ſtrand, " May ſhe not then th' alarum found in vain, " Nor miſs her baniſhed thouſands on the plain.
" Feed on, my ſheep, for though depriv'd of me, " My cruel foes ſhall your protectors be, " For their own ſakes, ſhall pen your ſtraggling flocks, " And ſave your lambkins from the rav'ning fox.
" Feed on, my goats, another now ſhall drain " Your ſtreams that heal diſeaſe and ſoften pain; " No ſtreams, alas! can ever, ever flow, " To heal your maſter's heart, or ſoothe his woe.
" Feed on, my flocks, ye harmleſs people, feed, " The worſt that ye can ſuffer is to bleed. " O! that the murderer's ſteel were all my fear! " How fondly would I ſtay to periſh here- " But, hark! My ſons loud call me from the vale, " And, lo! the veſſel ſpreads the ſwelling ſail. " Farewel! Farewel!"-A while his hands he wrung, And o'er his cook in ſpeechleſs ſorrow hung, Then caſting many a ling'ring look behind, Down the ſteep mountain's brow began to wind.