William Cowper
Verses, supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary Abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez
from Poems
1. | ||
I am monarch of all I survey, | ||
My right there is none to dispute, | ||
From the centre all round to the sea, | ||
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. | ||
Oh solitude! Where are the charms | ||
That sages have seen in thy face? | ||
Better dwell in the midst of alarms, | ||
Than reign in this horrible place. | ||
2. | ||
I am out of humanity's reach, | ||
I must finish my journey alone, | ||
Never hear the sweet music of speech, | ||
I start at the sound of my own. | ||
The beasts that roam over the plain, | ||
My form with indifference see, | ||
They are so unacquainted with man, | ||
Their tameness is shocking to me. | ||
3. | ||
Society, friendship, and love, | ||
Divinely bestow'd upon man, | ||
Oh had I the wings of a dove, | ||
How soon wou'd I taste you again! | ||
My sorrows I then might assuage | ||
In the ways of religion and truth, | ||
Might learn from the wisdom of age, | ||
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. | ||
4. | ||
Religion! what treasure untold | ||
Resides in that heav'nly word! | ||
More precious than silver and gold, | ||
Or all that this earth can afford. | ||
But the sound of the church going bell | ||
These vallies and rocks never heard, | ||
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell, | ||
Or smil'd when a sabbath appear'd. | ||
5. | ||
Ye winds that have made me your sport, | ||
Convey to this desolate shore, | ||
Some cordial endearing report | ||
Of a land I shall visit no more. | ||
My friends do they now and then send | ||
A wish or a thought after me? | ||
O tell me I have yet a friend, | ||
Though a friend I am never to see. | ||
6. | ||
How fleet is a glance of the mind! | ||
Compar'd with the speed of its flight, | ||
The tempest itself lags behind, | ||
And the swift winged arrows of light. | ||
When I think of my own native land, | ||
In a moment I seem to be there; | ||
But alas! recollection at hand | ||
Soon hurries me back to despair. | ||
7. | ||
But the sea fowl is gone to her nest, | ||
The beast is laid in his lair, | ||
Ev'n here is a season of rest, | ||
And I to my cabbin repair. | ||
There is mercy in ev'ry place, | ||
And mercy, encouraging thought! | ||
Gives even affliction a grace, | ||
And reconciles man to his lot. | ||
First published 1782
Robert Clark