WITH gallant sail and streamer gay,
Sweeping along the splendid bay,
That, thronged by thousands, seems to greet
The bearer of a precious freight,
The Cadmus comes; and every wave
Is glad the welcomed prow to lave.
What are the ship and freight to me —
I look for one that's on the sea.
'Welcome FAYETTE,' the million cries;
From heart to heart the ardor flies,
And drum, and hell, and cannon noise,
In concord with a nation's voice,
Is pealing through a grateful land,
And all go with him. — Here I stand,
Musing on one that's dear to me,
Yet sailing on the dangerous sea.
Be thy days happy here, FAYETTE—
Long may they be so — long — but yet
To me there's one that, dearest still,
Clings to my heart and chains my will.
His languid limbs and feverish head
Are laid upon a sea-sick bed.
Perhaps his thoughts are fixed on me,
While tossed upon the mighty sea.
I am alone. Let thousands throng
The noisy, crowded streets along:
Sweet be the beam of Beauty's gaze —
Loud be the shout that Freemen raise —
Let Patriots grasp thy noble hand,
And welcome thee to Freedom's land;—
Alas! I think of none but he
Who sails across the foaming sea.
So, when the moon is shedding light
Upon the stars, and all is bright
And beautiful; when every eye
Looks upwards to the glorious sky;
How have I turned my silent gaze
To catch one little taper's blaze: —
'T was from a spot too dear to me,
The home of him that's on the sea.