PRAYER AT SEA AFTER VICTORY.
135
Round their tall ship, the main
Heaved with a dark red stain,
Caught not from sunset's cloud;
While with the tide swept past
Pennon and shivered mast,
But free and fair on high,
A native of the sky,
Her streamer met the breeze;
It flowed o'er fearless men,
Though hushed and child-like then,
Oh! did not thoughts of home
O'er each bold spirit come
As, from the land, sweet gales?
In every word of prayer
Had not some hearth a share,