Stretching, at gloomy intervals, her eye
O'er the wide waters vainly to espy
The long-expected bark, in which to find
Some tidings of a world she has left behind.

In that sad hour shall start the gushing tear
For scenes her childhood loved, now doubly dear,
In that sad hour shall frantic memory awake
Pangs of remorse for slighted England's sake,
And for the sake of many a tender tye
Of Love or Friendship pass'd too lightly by.
Unwept, unpitied, midst an alien race,
And the cold looks of many a stranger face,
How will her poor heart bleed, and chide the day,
That from her country took her far away.

[Footnote: Bowles. ["The African," line 27.]]

[_Lamb has struck his pen through the foregoing poem._]

Coleridge, the above has some few decent [lines in] it, and in the
paucity of my portion of your volume may as well be inserted; I would
also wish to retain the following if only to perpetuate the memory of so
exquisite a pleasure as I have often received at the performance of the
tragedy of Douglas, when Mrs. Siddons has been the Lady Randolph. Both
pieces may be inserted between the sonnets and the sketches--in which
latter, the last leaf but one of them, I beg you to alter the words
"pain and want" to "pain and grief," this last being a more familiar and
ear-satisfying combination. Do it I beg of you. To understand the
following, if you are not acquainted with the play, you should know that