She saw the tall ship through the dark waters ride,
With war on her deck, and with death at her side;
She caught the last wave of the captain’s armed hand,
And the Bonaventure left our fair English strand.
She was bound for the south, where gold and where war
Await the bold seaman who comes from afar;
But many and strong are the galleons of Spain,
And three years Sir Francis has been on the main.
The white o’er the red rose has somewhat prevailed,
And more slender her form since Sir Francis first sailed;
But lovely, how lovely! that paleness to him
Who knows for his sake lip and cheek are thus dim.
The oriel, whose shrine is of silver, where stands
St. Therese, that lifted the white-sculptured hands,
Might tell how long midnights the ladye has prayed
For that ship in the South seas, her patron saint’s aid.
No night is so long, but it breaks into day—
No voyage, that has not an end to its way—
The ladye hath risen with daybreak again,
She watcheth the sky, and she watcheth the main:
She seeth a speck—’tis a cloud in the sky—
Ah, no—’tis a tall ship! it comes—it is nigh—
The flag of St. George is hung proud at the mast,
The Bonaventure is returning at last.
38
