C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.


What exile from himself can flee.


  • Beloved country! banish’d from thy shore,
  • A stranger in this prison-house of clay,
  • The exil’d spirit weeps and sighs for thee!
  • Heavenward the bright perfections I adore direct.
  • Longfellow.

  • An exile, ill in heart and frame,—
  • A wanderer, weary of the way;—
  • A stranger, without love’s sweet claim
  • On any heart, go where I may!
  • Mrs. Osgood.

  • “Farewell, my Spain! a long farewell!” he cried.
  • “Perhaps I may revisit thee no more,
  • But die, as many an exiled heart hath died,
  • Of its own thirst to see again thy shore.”
  • Byron.

  • Even now, as, wandering upon Erie’s shore,
  • I hear Niagara’s distant cataract roar,
  • I sigh for England—oh! these weary feet
  • Have many a mile to journey, ere we meet.
  • Moore.

  • There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin;
  • The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill!
  • For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing,
  • To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
  • Campbell.

  • Home, kindred, friends, and country—these
  • Are ties with which we never part;
  • From clime to clime, o’er land and seas,
  • We bear them with us in our heart:
  • But, oh! ’t is hard to feel resign’d,
  • When these must all be left behind!
  • J. Montgomery.

    Exile is terrible to those who have, as it were, a circumscribed habitation; but not to those who look upon the whole globe but as one city.


  • Oh! when shall I visit the land of my birth,
  • The loveliest land on the face of the earth?
  • When shall I those scenes of affection explore,
  • Our forests, our fountains,
  • Our hamlets, our mountains,
  • With the pride of our mountains, the maid I adore?
  • Oh! when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead,
  • In the shade of an elm, to the sound of the reed?
  • Montgomery.

  • But me, not destined such delights to share,
  • My prime of life in wandering spent and care;
  • Impell’d, with steps unceasing, to pursue
  • Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view
  • That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
  • Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies;
  • My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
  • And find no spot of all the world my own.
  • Goldsmith.