Weekly Trinity journal., 1857-11-21
TRINITY JOURNAL.
The Irish Enigrnnt.

Among the papers of the late William Samp-
son, the following noble and manly thoughts cx-
pressed with rare eloquence, have been rescued
from oblivion They deserve to be read aud
treasured by all, but will commend themselves to
the British reader with terrible force and effect
We find the article re published in a late issue of
the State Journal
Born in the country of afIl liction, his days were
of sorrow he titled the soil Of his fathers and
was an alien in their land lie tasted not of the
fruits that grew by the sweat OF his brow he fed
n foreign landlord whose face he never saw, aud
a minister OF the Gospel whose name he hardly
knew, and an unfceling bailiff was his lyrant aud
the taX-gathcrer his oppressor hunted by I'M
righteous magistrates and punished by unjust
judges. the soldier devoured his substance and
laughed his complaints to scorn.
He toiled the hopeless day and at night laid
down in weariness yet noble he was of heart :;
though his estate was lowly, his cottage was open
to the poor he baked his chidrens s bread and ate
it sparingiy that the hungry might have a share :;
he welcomed the benighted traveller, and rose
with the stars of the morning to guide him on his
way yet his soul repined within him he sought
relief in change, for he had heard OF land where
the poor were at peace, and the iaborer thought
worthy of his hire where the blood Of his fathers
had purchased an asylum. He leads the aged pa
rent whom love hath grappled to the heart he
hears his infants in his arms his wife follows his
weary steps they escape from the barbarOus laws
that would have made their country their prison
they crossed the trackless ocean they descry the
promised land and hope brightens the prospect
to their view, but happiness is not for him the
ruthless spirit OF persecution pursues him through
the waste of the ocean shall his foot never find
rest nor his heart repose no The prowling
bird of prey hoyers DER CoIumbas coast Waft-
ed on eagles wings the British cruiser comes,
ravishes the poor fugitive from the dear partner
of his sorrows, aud the tender pledges of their
love. See the haggard eyes of father to whom
nature denies tear stupid monument Of iv.
ing death he would interpOse his feeble arm but
it is mOtlOnless he would bid adeu, but his
voice refuses its Office the prop of his declining
years torn remOrselessly from before him, he
stands like the blasted oak, dead to hope and ev
cry earthly joy.
Was it not then enough that this victim of op.
preston bad left his native land TO the rapaciiy
of its invaders? Might he not have been permit.
ted to have sought an asylum in the gloom OF the
wilderness? No, the spirit Of persecution is not
yet sated with its sufierngs-the torment of one
element exhausted those Of another are now pre-
pared Tor him. enslaved to scorninl masters the
authors of his miseres and forced to fight the
battles Of those whom his soul abhors death that
relieves the wretch brings no relief Tor him, for
he lived not for himself but for those more dear
to him than lile-nOt for himself did he ieel the
winters blast, but for those who were now unpro-
tected, hOuseless and forlOrn. Where shall his
wife now wander when maddened with despair
Where shall his father lay his wearied bones =
Where shall his innocent babes ind food, unless
the ravens feed them? Oh, hard hearted and cru
ell men-ob, Stuart oh, West children of gen
ius, sons of Columbia, where are now your pen
cils Would you profane the bounteous gifts of
Heaven in tlattering the mighty aud the great,
aud withhold nObler aid 10 the cause of the poor
and the afflicted 3.