249 His Wish to Privacy
Give me a cell
To dwell,
Where no foot hath
A path;
There will I spend,
And end,
My wearied years
In tears.
250 To His Paternal Country
O earth! earth! earth! hear thou my voice, and be
Loving and gentle for to cover me!
Banish’d from thee I live;—ne’er to return,
Unless thou giv’st my small remains an urn.