Why change our childhood’s homes for lands
That glow with other suns?
What banished man whose fate is such
He fain would shun himself?
‘Grim, cankering care climbs up the brazened ships,
And swifter than the stag,
Or eastern wind which sweeps
The storms and rattling rain,
It leaveth not the bands of horsemen
Trooping o’er the plain.