Hope sickens, dies, and all is o’er,
The pilgrim’s bark is lost at sea.
But see around yon woody isle
A gallant vessel sweeps in pride,
Her presence bids the mourners smile,
And hope reviving marks the tide.
But ah! her topsails fade away,
Her gaudy streamer floats no more,
A shadow flits across the bay,
The pilgrim’s dying hope is o’er.