There lieth a wreck on the dismal shore Where, under the moon, upon mounts of frost, Yon shadowy Bark hath been to that wreck, To Deadman's Isle, in the eye of the blast, Oh! hurry thee on-oh! hurry thee on, TO THE BOSTON FRIGATE,1 October, 1804. Νοστου προφασις γλυκερου. Pindar. Pyth. 4. WITH triumph this morning, O Boston! I hail Well-peace to the land! may the people, at length, Unblest is the freedom and dreary the flight, Commanded by Captain J. E. Douglas, with whom I returned to England, and to whom I am indebted for many, many kindnesses. In truth, I should but offend the delicacy of my friend Douglas, and, at the same time, do injustice to my own feelings of gratitude, did I attempt to say how much I owe to him. Farewell to the few I have left with regret. May they sometimes recall, what I cannot forget, I told them each luminous trait that I knew, But, Douglas! while thus I endear to my mind Where the day comes in darkness, or shines but to freeze, That I could not with patience, with pleasure explore! When hope smooths the billowy path of our prow, But see-the bent topsails are ready to swell- |