APPROACH TO ENGLAND.
Land! Land! The sailor hears no sweeter sound!
And the tired voyager leaps up, to catch
Through lifted glass yon misty line, that marks
On the horizon's edge his destined goal.
Warm-hearted Erin, to the utmost verge
Of old Kinsale, dipping her snowy foot
In the cold surge, came forth, and held a light,
And breathed good wishes on our venturous way.
But then we lost her, and went groping on,
Day after day, fog-wrapt and full of fear,
O'er the vexed Channel, the resounding lead
Probing its depths, and he who ruled our bark
Sleepless, and marked with care for those who gave
Both life and fortune to his faithful charge.
Would that I loved thee, Ocean!
I had heard
Much of thy praise, in story and in song,
And oft by fancy lured, was half prepared
To worship thee. But t is a weary life
To be a child of thine. Thou hast a smile
