  O Cape of Storms! although thy front be dark, And bleak thy naked cliffs and cheerless vales, And perilous thy fierce and faithless gales To staunchest mariner and stoutest bark; And though along thy coasts with grief I mark The servile and the slave, and him who wails An exile’s lot—and blush to hear thy tales Of sin and sorrow and oppression stark:— Yet, spite of physical and moral ill, And after all I’ve seen and suffered here, And render even thy rocks and deserts dear; Here dwell kind hearts which time nor place can chill— Loved kindred and congenial friends sincere. Thomas Pringle, 1825. [Image of decorative bar not available.] |
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