‘Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sail’d softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze— On me alone it blew.
‘Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed The light-house top I see? Is this the hill? is this the kirk? Is this mine own countree?
‘We drifted o’er the harbour-bar, And I with sobs did pray— “O let me be awake, my God! Or let me sleep alway.”
‘The harbour bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon.
‘The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock: The moonlight steeped in silentness, The steady weathercock.
‘And the bay was white with silent light Till, rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came.
‘A little distance from the prow Those crimson shadows were: I turned my eyes upon the deck— Oh, Christ! what saw I there!
‘Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And by the holy rood! A man all light, a seraph-man, On every corse there stood.
‘This seraph-band, each waved his hand, It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light;
‘This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart— No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music on my heart.