My readers will
probably not be displeased to have a specimen of this ode:--
'Hei mihi! quantos patior dolores,
Dum procul specto juga ter beata;
Dum ferae Barrae steriles arenas
Solus oberro.
'Ingemo, indignor, crucior, quod inter
Barbaros Thulen lateam colentes;
Torpeo languens, morior sepultus,
Carcere coeco.'
After wishing for wings to fly over to his dear country, which was in
his view, from what he calls _Thule_, as being the most western isle of
Scotland, except St. Kilda; after describing the pleasures of society,
and the miseries of solitude, he at last, with becoming propriety, has
recourse to the only sure relief of thinking men,--_Sursum
corda_[719]--the hope of a better world, disposes his mind to
resignation:--
'Interim fiat, tua, rex, voluntas:
Erigor sursum quoties subit spes
Certa migrandi Solymam supernam,
Numinis aulam.'
He concludes in a noble strain of orthodox piety:--
'Vita tum demum vocitanda vita est.
Tum licet gratos socios habere,
Seraphim et sanctos TRIADEM verendam
Concelebrantes.'
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29[720].
After a very good sleep, I rose more refreshed than I had been for some
nights. We were now at but a little distance from the shore, and saw the
sea from our windows, which made our voyage seem nearer.
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