THE HELMSMAN.
Hark! the bell 1 it sounds midnight!—all hail, thou new
heav’n!
How soft sleep the stars on their bosom of night!
While o’er the full moon, as they gently are driven,
Slowly floating the clouds bathe their fleeces in light.
The warm feeble breeze scarcely ripples the ocean,
And all seems so hush’d, all so happy to feel!
So smooth glides the bark, I perceive not her motion,
While low sings the sailor who watches the wheel.