The unhappy exile, whom his fates confine To the bleak coast of some unfriendly isle, Cold, barren, desart, where no harvests smile, But thirst and hunger on the rocks repine; When, from some promontory's fearful brow, Sun after sun he hopeless sees decline In the broad shipless sea—perhaps may know Such heartless pain, such blank despair as mine; And, if a flattering cloud appears to show The fancied semblance of a distant sail, Then melts away—anew his spirits fail, While the lost hope but aggravates his woe! Ah! so for me delusive Fancy toils, Then, from contrasted truth—my feeble soul recoils.
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Charlotte Smith
Charlotte Turner Smith (4 May 1749 – 28 October 1806) was an English Romantic poet and novelist. She initiated a revival of the English sonnet, …
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