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ROGER WILLIAMS IN BANISHMENT.
BY JOB DURFEE, Esq.
And, surely betweene my friends of the Bay and Plimouth, I was sorely
PROVIDENCE, R. I.
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY CRANSTON & HAMMOND.
Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the year 1832, by Job Durfee, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, within and for the Rhode Island District.
TO THE REV. ROMEO ELTON,
PROFESSOR OF LANGUAGES IN BROWN UNIVERSITY.
What time, dear Elton, we were wont to rove
From classic Brown along fair Seekonk’s vale,
Hear barbarous voices still our Founder hail;
To give to deathless verse the exile's tale,
And different labors to our lots were given :
Sublime your toils, for still your theme was Heaven-
A little bark before the tempest driven-
I gave my pinpace to the harbor's lee,
To mad ambition's heartless rivalry;
(For storms and quicksands have no charms for me,)
Or lead the herds to graze the dewy mead,
And makes no heart with disappointment bleed;
The lambkins sport, and brindled oxen feed,
And when stern winter breathes the chilling storm,
And niglit comes down on earth in mantle hoar, I guide the herds and flocks to shelter warm,
And sate their hunger from the gathered store;
Of childhood lovelier than the vernal flower,
Scarce conscious that they bore a tale along
They were not labor but the joy of songStill every line would unsung beauties show
Iu Williams' soul, and still the strain prolong; Till all in rapture with the theme sublime, My thoughts spontaneous sought the embodying rhyme. Nu man was he of heart with love confined
With blessings only for his bosom friend His glowing'so 1 einbraced the human kind
He toiled and suffered for earth’s farthest end. Touched by the truths of bis unyielding mind,
The Buinau soul did her long bondage rend; Stern Persecution paused-blushed-dropped the rodlle strove like man, but conquered like a God. And now, my Elton, as in hours of ease,
With aimless joy I filled this frail balloon, So like blind impulse bids me trust the breeze,
And soar on dancing winds to fate unknown; And be my lot whatever chance decrees
Let gales propitious gently waft me on, Or tempests dash far down oblivious night
Whate'er the goal, I tempt the heedless flight. Tiverton, R. I. September, 1832.
I sing the trials and the sufferings great,
Which FATHER WILLIAMS in his exile bore, That he the conscience-bound might liberate,
And her religious rights the soul restore ; How, after flying persecution's hate,
And roving long by Narraganset's shore, In lone Mooshausick's vale at last he sate, And on Religious Freedom based our State.
He was a man of spirit true and bold;
Feared not to speak his thoughts whate'er they were ; His frame, though light, was of an iron mould,
And fitted well fatigue and change to bear;
Of howling wilderness, in winter drear,
Mid winter reigned; and Salem's infant town,
Where late were cleft the forest's skirts away, Showed its low roofs, and from the thatching brown, The sheeted ice sent back the sun's last ray;