On this Empire of waves, this expanse of the main,
In the track we are sailing, no island is seen:
The glow of the stars, and the breath of the wind
Are lost!—for they bring not the scent of the land!
Huge porpoises swim, where there should be an isle,
Where an Eden might bloom, or a Cyprus might smile—
From Palma,[A] thus far, with a tedious delay,
Salt water and æther is all we survey!
[A] The most north-westerly of the Canary Islands.—Freneau's note.
Like an artist that's busy in melting his lead,
At random it falls, and is carelessly spread,
So Nature, though wisely the globe she has planned,
Left the surface to chance—to be sea, or be land.
[168] Unique in the edition of 1809.
STANZAS[169]
To the memory of General Washington, who died December 14, 1799
Terra tegit, populus mæret, cælum habet!
Departing with the closing age
To virtue, worth, and freedom true,
The chief, the patriot, and the sage
To Vernon bids his last adieu:
To reap in some exalted sphere
The just rewards of virtue here.