I.
And are you sure the news is true?
And is the pilot seen?
I see the waters changed in hue,
Old Neptune’s deck’d in green.
II.
’Tis true; I see the glistening sail
Far o’er the watery space,
White as a floating bridal veil
Thrown off a blushing face.
III.
All eyes are straining for the shore,
I long to climb above,
And shall I touch the land once more,
And hear of those I love?
IV.
Before this wearying glass has spent
Its sand, he’ll he aboard;
I’ll ask not if we’ve pitch’d the tent,
Or sheath’d the bloody sword;
V.
If Dost Mahomed captive pine,
Or if the Tartar bend,
I’ll trembling ask for one dear line
From some familiar friend.
VI.
The pilot on the deck has sprung,
He’s hail’d on every side,
Shame on my false, rebellious tongue!
Oh! why is speech denied?