Chapter XXXV

How oft, did hope thy blest return pourtray,
And bid me dwell upon that joyous day,
When once again, from every danger free,
Thy bounding vessel from the stormy sea,
Should to my arms, thy much lov’d form restore,
To taste each blessing of thy native shore;
To charm thy bosom after years of pain,
And ceaseless labor for unstable gain;
Oft, in fond fancy, would I seem to hear
Thy tale of sorrow murm’ring in my ear;
How the wild tempest toss’d thy ship on high,
And fate seem’d brooding in the whirlwind’s sigh;
How swift she flew before the lightning breeze,
And swept resistless o’er the foaming seas;
Or where in polar region’s wintry reign,
Where endless frost o’er nature binds its chain,
The stiffen’d canvass whistled in the blast,
And the vex’d cordage lash’d the lonely mast;
How in the fairest, most enchanting scenes,
Where blooming China spreads her living greens,
Her citron forests, and her Orange bowers,
Her vines of plenty, rich in fruit, and flowers;
Still, still, thy home was dearest, loveliest still,
And fond remembrance oft thy eyes would fill:
But fled the hope; no more thy comely form,
With rapt’rous gladness, shall my bosom warm;
Never, again, shall I those features trace,
That join’d to harmonize thy manly face;--
Entomb’d, unhonor’d, tho’ thy bones may lie,
Thy fate shall claim the deeply-breathing sigh;
Far distant, sunk in ocean’s caverns drear,
For thee, snail stream the sympathizing tear.