Oft will they turn towards the West, And think of where his glories rest. Farewell! And in that distant Isle, Enough; we have no higher claim Life is an ocean wide and waste, But, 'mid the stormy deep, A few green isles by rocks embraced, There find some wandering thoughts a home, And thither Fancy loves to roam. Joys past away and friendships old Have still a name and dwelling there; And there thy name shall be enroll❜d, Till other waves thy bark shall bear To climes beyond that crimson West, The happy isles where spirits rest. YET, ere that distant shore thou reach, Whence none have travell'd ever, Its tale of mystery to teach, Oh, ere such distance sever, May'st thou behold thy native beach Once more, and leave it never, Till angels minister for thee, In passing to eternity! Peace be upon the ocean-deeps, And stay their tumult frantic, Peace such as Heaven in mercy keeps,— Thou safely pass the rocky steeps, And gain those Isles romantic, Where Hope shall fondly rest, and dream Of thy return, till truth it seem. C. Thou shalt return! Till then farewell! And oh, when on the ocean, Thy bark safe o'er the surging swell Is bound with homeward motion, If in this heart no pulse shall tell E. |