[From Mona's Isle, 1844]

THE MANX EXILE.

PEACE be to Mona’s happy isle!
While I in foreign climates roam,
Oft do thy charms my cares beguile,
My native land—my island home!
To thee my thoughts will oft return,
Conversing with the sacred dead,
Whilst for the lost one still I n~oui~n~
Who sleeps in peace near Maughold’s head,

How strong is Nature’s sacred tie
That binds me closely to thy shore—
How pensively I often sigh,
" Ah, shall I ever see thee more ?"—
In fancy’s dreams I often see
The happy spot that gave me birth,
The humble yale, how dear to me,
It is the sweetest spot on earth!

The flow’ry banks of Coma’s stream
Are still to me a favour’d spot,

* The author’s mother.
There first was form’d my life’s young dream,
And on them stands my native cot;
In Summer’s pride I’ve stray’d along,
When flowers deck’d the river side,
Chanting a rural, native song,
As by the crystal stream did glide.

All then was peace and happiness,
My mind was free from ev’ry care,
No bitter pangs rose to distress
My heart, which since has had its share
In many a keen and galling pain,
Struggling with worldly misery,
Yet still, tho’ toss’d on life’s rough main,
I ‘ye thought, my dearest isle, of thee.

It yet may be my happy lot,
When cease my toils and earthly care,
To haste to thee, my native spot,
Thy rural peace at last to share;
There with my kind endearing wife,
And all our little happy train,
I would resign a sailor’s life
To till my Mona’s soil again!