Like polar star, whose argent light
Gems the dark diadem of night,
And sheds a heav'nly guiding ray.
Hope helms the bark mid these wild seas,
Where the white swelling billows roar;
The seaman cheers, to brave the breeze,
And steer the prow for Albion's shore.
The sun illumes yon mountain's brow—
'Tis gone, and all's in shadow now!
So flits the vision of the past