Classic Poem

Bless my good ship, protecting pow'r of grace!
And o'er the winds, the waves, the destin'd coast,
Breathe benign spirit!—Let thy radiant host
Spread their angelic shields!
Before us, the bright bulwark let them place,
And fly beside us, through their azure fields!

O calm the voice of winter's storm!
Rule the wrath of angry seas!
The fury of the rending blast appease,
Nor let its rage fair ocean's face deform!
O check the biting wind of spring,
And, from before our course,
Arrest the fury of its wing,
And terrors of its force!
So may we safely pass the dang'rous cape,
And from the perils of the deep escape!

I grieve to leave the splendid seats
Of Teamor's ancient fame!
Mansion of heroes, now farewell!
Adieu, ye sweet retreats,
Where the fam'd hunters of your ancient vale,
Who swell'd the high heroic tale,
Were wont of old to dwell!
And you, bright tribes of sunny streams, adieu!
While my sad feet their mournful path pursue,
Ah, well their lingering steps my grieving soul proclaim!

Receive me now, my ship!—hoist now thy sails,
To catch the favouring gales.
O Heaven! before thine awful throne I bend!
O let thy power thy servants now protect!
Increase of knowledge and of wisdom lend,
Our course, through ev'ry peril to direct;
To steer us safe through ocean's rage,
Where angry storms their dreadful strife maintain;
O may thy pow'r their wrath assuage!
May smiling suns, and gentle breezes reign!

Stout is my well-built ship, the storm to brave,
Majestic in its might,
Her bulk, tremendous on the wave,
Erects its stately height!
From her strong bottom, tall in air
Her branching masts aspiring rise;
Aloft their cords, and curling heads they bear,
And give their sheeted ensigns to the skies;
While her proud bulk frowns awful on the main,
And seems the fortress of the liquid plain!

Dreadful in the shock of fight,
She goes—she cleaves the storm!
Where ruin wears its most tremendous form
She sails, exulting in her might;
On the fierce necks of foaming billows rides,
And through the roar
Of angry ocean, to the destin'd shore
Her course triumphant guides;
As though beneath her frown the winds were dead,
And each blue valley was their silent bed!

Through all the perils of the main
She knows her dauntless progress to maintain!
Through quicksands, flats, and breaking waves,
Her dang'rous path she dares explore;
Wrecks, storms, and calms, alike she braves,
And gains, with scarce a breeze, the wish'd-for shore!
Or in the hour of war,
Fierce on she bounds, in conscious might,
To meet the promis'd fight!
While, distant far,

The fleets of wondering nations gaze,
And view her course with emulous amaze,
As, like some champion'd son of fame,
She rushes to the shock of arms,
And joys to mingle in the loud alarms,
Impell'd by rage, and fir'd with glory's flame.

Sailing with pomp upon the watery plain,
Like some huge monster of the main,
My ship her speckl'd bosom laves,
And high in air her curling ensigns waves;
Her stately sides, with polish'd beauty gay,
And gunnel, bright with gold's effulgent ray.

As the fierce Griffin's dreadful flight
Her monstrous bulk appears,
While o'er the seas her towering height,
And her wide wings, tremendous shade! she rears.
Or, as a champion, thirsting after fame,—
The strife of swords,—the deathless name,—
So does she seem, and such her rapid course!
Such is the rending of her force;
When her sharp keel, where dreadful splendours play,
Cuts through the foaming main its liquid way.
Like the red bolt of Heaven, she shoots along,
Dire as its flight, and as its fury strong!

God of the winds! O hear my pray'r!
Safe passage now bestow!
Soft, o'er the slumbering deep, may fair
And prosperous breezes flow!
O'er the rough rock, and swelling wave,
Do thou our progress guide!
Do thou from angry ocean save,
And o'er its rage preside.

Speed my good ship, along the rolling sea,
O Heaven! and smiling skies, and favouring gales' decree!
Speed the high-masted ship of dauntless force,
Swift in her glittering flight, and sounding course!
Stately moving on the main,
Forest of the azure plain!
Faithful to confided trust,
To her promis'd glory just;
Deadly in the strife of war,
Rich in ev'ry gift of peace,
Swift from afar,
In peril's fearful hour,
Mighty in force, and bounteous in her power,
She comes, kind aid she lends,
She frees her supplicating friends,
And fear before her flies, and dangers cease!
Hear, blest Heaven! my ardent pray'r!
My ship—my crew—O take us to thy care!
O may no peril bar our way!
Fair blow the gales of each propitious day!
Soft swell the floods, and gently roll the tides,
While, from Dunboy, along the smiling main
We sail, until the destined coast we gain,
And safe in port our gallant vessel rides!