32 



Hali. 4. 1. 263. 



So dear the lobster loves his native home, 

 Nought e'er can lure him from its bounds to roam ; 

 But if transported, by some stern decree. 

 To distant shores, then left to wander free. 

 Around no foreign rock his arms he flings ; 

 To no new chamber in the deep he clings ; 

 But back, with eager speed, his path explores 

 To his loved grottoes, and his well-known shores ;* 

 Nor dreads his wonted pasture to regain, 

 Tho' banished thence by hunters of the main. 

 Dear to the finny tribes their native waves. 

 Their sands paternal, and their coral caves ; — 

 Each haunt sweet rapture on their hearts distils : 

 Not man alone the patriot passion thrills ; 

 These feel it too, and well with him they know 

 That angiy fate inflicts no direr woe 

 Than durance sad, beneath her ruthless stroke. 

 In hopeless exile, and a shameftil yoke. 



• These lines, and still more those on the deer, page 11, remind us of our own pathetit 

 Goldsmith's verses on a similar topic : 



And as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue. 

 Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 

 I still had hopes, my long vexations past. 

 Here to return, and die at home at last. 



