Borne on the Ocean's heaving breast,
Mark yon stately vessel sail;
How in floating canvass drest,
Courts she every wanton gale!
Soft the prosp'rous breezes blow;
Fast she makes a wish'd-for shore;
Glitt'ring bright in splendid show,
Rich with India's golden ore.
Gently foams the recreant tide,
'Neath the golden-gilded prow;
Pleased the joyous waves divide
Still behind no track they show.
Yet at some far-distant day
Memory will the scene retrace;
Mark the wanton breezes play,
Hail the vessel's easy grace.
Buoyant thus on life's broad stream,
Man in all his beauty moves;
Blest with sweet contentment's beam,
Blest with all his bosom loves.
Swift each passing year rolls on;
Still contentment glads his mind;
Soon each passing year is gone--
Gone, nor leaves a track behind.
Then alike fond memory's powers
Pleasures long since past, review;
Lead him back to youth's bright hours,
And each blissful scene renew.