Wears, amidst all its quiet loveliness,
A hue of desolation; and the calm,
The solitude and silence which pervade
Earth, air, and ocean, seem belonging less
To peace than sadness! We have proudly stood
Even on this shore, beside the Atlantic wave,
When it hath look’d not thus.
Seb. Ay, now thy soul
Is in the past! Oh no! it look’d not thus
When the morn smiled upon our thousand sails,