Joy's sunny beam is soon o'ercast!
Happy my days while yet a child,
When blandly hope my hours beguiled;
Like green Oäsis on the sun-burnt plain,
And Hope doth still her syren charms retain!
Little of interest, and still less of variety, the reader can reasonably expect to have narrated in a short sea-voyage from the shores of Erin to those of Albion; but on the contrary, much tameness, much sameness, and much monotony, must necessarily be encountered by the voyager.
However, the breeze blew propitious, the weather smiled a settled and serene summer day; the resplendent azure of the sky was unruffled by a cloud, the sun was warm, and the scene proved genial and exhilarating, as onward the gallant bark ploughed her watery way.
A numerous host of seagulls circled in many a merry gambol around the vessel, then right-joyously plunged into the water, and boomed upon the billow, while they seemed to rejoice in the summer sun, and sport on halcyon tide; while ever and anon the Diver (Colymbus Troile) plunged beneath the glassy surface of the sea; a large flock of Terns, or sea-swallows (sterna hirundo) congregated about the vessel, flying around in quick and circling evolutions; now rising from, now sinking in the deep, in frolic play, then gliding along close to the surface of the sea; sometimes snapping at the insects in their way, or then suddenly checking their course, they were seen to dart down upon their finny prey, which was swallowed in the ascent, without the operation by any means retarding the progress of their flight.
The gallant vessel throughout the entire day had joyously scudded onward in a prosperous course before the favouring breeze, and in no longer space than fifteen hours from her departure from the port of Dublin, had arrived at the mouth of the river Dee. But the tide was at this time at ebb, which of necessity retarded the landing of the passengers, as likewise from other co-operating difficulties, the dangerous sand-banks which blockade this harbour, and above all, the total deficit of deep water, a difficulty not to be surmounted, left no choice whatever to the captain but to cast anchor, and cause the packet to remain at her moorings to await the morning tide, which, consequently, put the patience of the voyagers much to task.
The passengers paced the deck to and fro, while they amused themselves with whatever object caught their eye, ear, or fancy; the operations of the crew, the passing sail, the darkening cloud, the sea-fowl retiring to rest, or the slow and hollow murmurs of the receding wave as it foamed, while it retreated, from the adjoining sands of the winding Dee.