 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
TO THEODORE S. FAY,
ON HIS DEPARTURE FOR EUROPE.
The sails are unfurled, and the anchor apeak,
The pilot is now at the wheel,
Adieu! we must lose thee! but words are too weak
To express the emotions we feel!
May fresh western breezes, propitiously fair,
Thy gallant bark safely propel,
While we will invoke, in each soul-breathing prayer,
A blessing upon thee—farewell!
The pilot is now at the wheel,
Adieu! we must lose thee! but words are too weak
To express the emotions we feel!
May fresh western breezes, propitiously fair,
Thy gallant bark safely propel,
While we will invoke, in each soul-breathing prayer,
A blessing upon thee—farewell!
Far, far from thy home, and from liberty's clime,
To the land of the graces you hie,
Where vales of enchantment, and mountains sublime,
Delight and astonish the eye.
Where genius and taste, and the sweetest of arts,
In classical beauty excel;
But ah! wilt thou find such affectionate hearts
As those which now bid thee—farewell!
To the land of the graces you hie,
Where vales of enchantment, and mountains sublime,
Delight and astonish the eye.
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In classical beauty excel;
But ah! wilt thou find such affectionate hearts
As those which now bid thee—farewell!
Then, music and love, to the light-flitting hours,
The plumage of paradise lend;
And, sporting with beauty in balm-breathing bowers,
Will smilingly welcome our friend.
But ah! can their witcheries ever impart
A joy like the conjugal spell,
Which she, who attends thee, has laid on thy heart?
We know that heart better—farewell!
The plumage of paradise lend;
And, sporting with beauty in balm-breathing bowers,
Will smilingly welcome our friend.
But ah! can their witcheries ever impart
A joy like the conjugal spell,
Which she, who attends thee, has laid on thy heart?
We know that heart better—farewell!
For her, and for thee, we shall blessings invoke,
And if storms on the ocean assail,
May He, who to Galilee's billows once spoke,
Soon silence the voice of the gale.
And roseate health, as she lights up the cheek,
Each care from your hearts shall dispel;
And, oh! when possessed of the blessing you seek,
Return to our bosom—farewell!
And if storms on the ocean assail,
May He, who to Galilee's billows once spoke,
Soon silence the voice of the gale.
And roseate health, as she lights up the cheek,
Each care from your hearts shall dispel;
And, oh! when possessed of the blessing you seek,
Return to our bosom—farewell!
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |