Luke Andrews is transported! never more
To see his Sisters, Mother, or the shore
Of his own Country! never more to see
The cottage-smoke rise o'er the sheltering tree;
Never again beneath the morning beam,
"Jocund to drive a-field his tinkling team!"
When first the path of Idleness he trod,
And left, on Sabbath days, the House of God—
The fellowship of wild companions kept—
How oft at night his mother wak'd and wept!
When he is homeless, and far off at sea.
She now will sigh—"Does he remember me?"
Remember her! alas! the thought how vain!
She ne'er will see him in this world again!
And she is broken-hearted; but her trust
Is still in Him whose works and ways are just.
Oh! may we still revere his great command,
And die remember'd, in our native laud!