THOU com'st, fair bark, in gallant pride
Thy swan-white sails exulting spread;
Nor I the graceful triumph chide,
For silent are the tears I shed.
Ere while, when thou wert distant far,
Wand'ring on ocean's pathless waste,
I hail'd thee as my pilot star,
By thee my devious course was traced.
To thee, as to a hallow'd shrine,
My sighs, my pray'rs were all address'd;
Thy pride, thy honour seem'd but mine,
And in thy safety was my rest.
But now, though trophies deck thy brow,
A mournful wreck alone I see;
For he who warm'd each ardent vow,
No more a welcome asks of me.

He should have liv'd!--for fortune ow'd
The kind redress, withheld too long,
Whilst he life's dark and dreary road
Had still beguil'd with hope's sweet song.
He should have liv'd!--in suff'ring school'd,
But ne'er with fancied wrongs oppress'd;
For nature still o'er sorrow rul'd,
And peace his guileless soul possess'd.
Unskill'd in caution's rigid lore,
He scorn'd suspicion's gloomy sway;
Deceiv'd, he trusted as before,
And dreams illum'd each passing day.
And still in Albion's happy isle,
His little fairy home was plac'd;
Domestic love,--affection's smile,
Were all the joys he sigh'd to taste.
How blest, to strive with toil no more,
To live for social cares alone,
To soothe the ills that others bore,
As none had ever sooth'd his own!

How fair the scene by fancy cast,
Rich with affection's balmy breath,
Ah dream! the loveliest, as the last,
That gilded the dark hour of death.
Even on his wandering soul it smiled,
When flitting shades around him press'd,
A transient gleam of joy beguiled
His pangs--one moment he was bless'd.
He saw the partner of his days,
Hailed each loved friend with antient claim,
And with a tender lingering gaze,
Responded to the father's name.
And then he would a blessing breathe,
A pledge of Christian faith impart,
And with a dower of love bequeath,
The latest counsels of his heart.
But then he saw the phantoms fade,
He gaz'd on strangers, rude and cold,
His last fond look was hope betray'd,
His parting sigh, a wish untold.—