University of Virginia Library

When Ivan landed, and once more
Breath'd on his own—his native shore,
His well-known cottage rose to view,
Crown'd by the mist of silvery blue;
The voice that answer'd to his call,
Like heavenly music seem'd to fall:
O'ercome by hope, and joy, and love,
His trembling lips refus'd to move!
When at the cottage door appear'd
The form so dear, and so rever'd,
Which hush'd his throbbing heart's alarms—
He press'd his mother in his arms!