And then he told how in a calm distress’d,
Day after day his soul was sick of rest;
When, as a log upon the deep they stood,
Then roved his spirit to the inland wood;
Till, while awake, he dream’d, that on the seas
Were his loved home, the hill, the stream, the trees:
He gazed, he pointed to the scenes: - “There stand
My wife, my children, ’tis my lovely land.
See! there my dwelling - oh! delicious scene
Of my best life: - unhand me - are ye men?”