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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
 
Exile
 
  What exile from himself can flee.
Byron.    
  1
        Beloved country! banish’d from thy shore,
A stranger in this prison-house of clay,
The exil’d spirit weeps and sighs for thee!
Heavenward the bright perfections I adore direct.
Longfellow.    
  2
        An exile, ill in heart and frame,—
A wanderer, weary of the way;—
A stranger, without love’s sweet claim
On any heart, go where I may!
Mrs. Osgood.    
  3
        “Farewell, my Spain! a long farewell!” he cried.
“Perhaps I may revisit thee no more,
But die, as many an exiled heart hath died,
Of its own thirst to see again thy shore.”
Byron.    
  4
        Even now, as, wandering upon Erie’s shore,
I hear Niagara’s distant cataract roar,
I sigh for England—oh! these weary feet
Have many a mile to journey, ere we meet.
Moore.    
  5
        There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin;
  The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill!
For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing,
  To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
Campbell.    
  6
        Home, kindred, friends, and country—these
  Are ties with which we never part;
From clime to clime, o’er land and seas,
  We bear them with us in our heart:
But, oh! ’t is hard to feel resign’d,
When these must all be left behind!
J. Montgomery.    
  7
  Exile is terrible to those who have, as it were, a circumscribed habitation; but not to those who look upon the whole globe but as one city.
Cicero.    
  8
        Oh! when shall I visit the land of my birth,
The loveliest land on the face of the earth?
When shall I those scenes of affection explore,
Our forests, our fountains,
Our hamlets, our mountains,
With the pride of our mountains, the maid I adore?
Oh! when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead,
In the shade of an elm, to the sound of the reed?
Montgomery.    
  9
        But me, not destined such delights to share,
My prime of life in wandering spent and care;
Impell’d, with steps unceasing, to pursue
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own.
Goldsmith.    
  10
 
 
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