University of Virginia Library


45

SONNET I. ON THE SHIPS SAILING FOR BOTANY-BAY.

Fresh o'er the wave the winds that fav'ring blow
Fill the swoln sails. Genius of Albion, say
Why yon swift vessel cleaves the wat'ry way?
Is it to hurl thy vengeance on the foe;
To plunge 'mid untried seas th'adventurous prow;
Or to new isles where nature's children stray,
Arts yet untaught, and fruits unknown convey?
Alas, for Britain! fraught with guilt and woe,
Groans the o'erburden'd ship. The farewell sound
Rings mournfully. Father of Mercy, hear!
Chastis'd by labour, when the exiles earn
By their brows' sweat their bread, oh! may the tear
Of penitence drop on the soil, and turn
To blessing thy dread curse that smote the ground.