And didst thou follow, league on league,
Our pointed mast, thine only guide,
When but a floating speck it seemed
On the broad bosom of the tide?
On far Newfoundland’s misty bank,
Hadst thou a nest, and nurslings fair?
Or ’mid New England’s forests hoar?
Speak! speak! what tidings dost thou bear?
What news from native shore and home,
Swift courier o’er the threatening tide?—