"Yet, believe, no servile passions Seek to charm thy vagrant mind; Well I know thy inclinations, Wav'ring as the passing wind. "I have lov'd thee,--dearly lov'd thee, Through an age of worldly woe; How ungrateful I have prov'd thee Let my mournful exile show! "Ten long years of anxious sorrow, Hour by hour I counted o'er; Looking forward, till to-morrow, Every day I lov'd thee more! "Pow'r and splendour could not charm me; I no joy in wealth could see! Nor could threats or fears alarm me, Save the fear of losing thee! "When the storms of fortune press'd thee, I have wept to see thee weep When relentless cares distress'd thee, I have lull'd those cares to sleep! "When with thee, what ills could harm me? Thou couldst every pang assuage; But when absent, nought could charm me; Every moment seem'd an age. "Fare thee well, ungrateful lover! Welcome Gallia's hostile shore: Now the breezes waft me over; Now we part--to meet no more." On landing at Calais, Mrs. Robinson hesitated whether to proceed. To travel through Flanders, then the seat of war, threatened too many perils to be attempted with impunity; she determined, therefore, for some time to remain at Calais, the insipid and spiritless amusements of which presented little either to divert her attention or engage her mind. Her time passed in listening to the complaints of the impoverished aristocrats, or in attending to the air-built projects of their triumphant adversaries. The arrival of travellers from England, or the return of those from Paris, alone diversified the scene, and afforded a resource to the curious and active inquirer. The sudden arrival of her husband gave a turn to the feelings of Mrs. Robinson: he had crossed the channel for the purpose of carrying back to England his daughter, whom he wished to present to a brother newly returned from the East Indies. Maternal conflicts shook on this occasion the mind of Mrs. Robinson, which hesitated between a concern for the interests of her beloved child, from whom she had never been separated, and the pain of parting from her. She resolved at length on accompanying her to England, and, with this view, quitted Calais on the memorable 2d of September, 1792,[50] a day which will reflect on the annals of the republic an indelible stain. They had sailed but a few hours when the _arret_ arrived, by which every British subject throughout France was restrained.