Long may you live, secure from woes,
Late dying, meet a calm repose,
And flowers, that in profusion grow,
Bloom round your steps, where'er you go.
On you all eyes delight to gaze,
All tongues are lavish in your praise;
With you no beauty can compare,
Nor Georgia boast one flower so fair.
Could I, fair girl, transmit this page,
A present, to some future age,
You should through every poem shine,
You, be adored in every line:
From Jersey coasts too loth to sail,
Sighing, she left her native vale;
Borne on a stream that met the main,
Homeward she looked, and looked again.
The gales that blew from off the land
Most wantonly her bosom fanned,
And, while around that heaven they strove,
Each whispering zephyr owned his love.
As o'er the seas, with you I strayed,
The hostile winds our course delayed,
But, proud to waft a charge so fair,
To me were kind—and held you there.
I could not grieve, when you complained
That adverse gales our barque detained
Where foaming seas to mountains grow,
From gulphs of death, concealed below.
When travelling o'er that lonely wave
To me your feverish hand you gave,
And sighing, bade me tell you, true,
What lands again would rise to view!
When night came on, with blustering gale,
You feared the tempest would prevail,
And anxious asked, if I was sure
That on those depths we sailed secure?
Delighted with a face so fair,
I half forgot my weight of care,
The dangerous shoal, that seaward runs,
Encircled moons, and shrouded suns.