Classic Poem

Ocean, I call thee from the sapphire Deep,
Where the young Billows on their pearl-beds sleep;
And the fair Beauties of the boist'rous Main,
Far from the jarring Elements complain:
Where in the coral Groves transparent Court,
The green-hair'd Tritons and their Nymphs resort:
Haste and subdue the Turbulence that laves
The long-drawn Shadows of the mountain Waves;
Still the proud Tempest, whose impetuous Sway,
Heaves into monstrous Forms the watry Way.
Maria asks—nor thou the Boon refuse,
Urg'd by the pensive melancholy Muse

Who oft to Thee , when keen Despair hath spread
Her awful Terrors o'er her timid Head,
Has pour'd with fervid Lay the suppliant Pray'r,
And twin'd her Sorrows in thy sedgy Hair:
While Thou attentive to the weeping Tale,
Dispers'd her Fears, and quell'd the ruthless Gale.

Adieu to I NDIA'S fertile Plains,
Where Brahma's holy Doctrine reigns;
Whose virt'ous Principles still bind
The Hindoo's meek untainted Mind;
Far other Scenes my Thoughts employ,
Source of Anguish, Hope and Joy;
I hasten to my NATIVE SHORE ,
Where Art and Science blend their Lore;
There Learning keeps her chosen Seat—
A million Vot'ries at her Feet,
Ambitious of the L AUREL B OUGH ,
To wind about their honor'd Brow.
Yet ere I go—a grateful Pain
Involves the Muse's parting Strain;

The sad Regret my Mind imbues,
And fills with Grief— my last Adieus
For I have felt the subtle Praise,
That cheer'd the Minstrel's doubtful Lays;
That fed the infant lambent Flame,
And bade me hope for FUTURE F AME .

Farewell, ye sacred Haunts, where oft I've stray'd
With mild REFLECTION —solitary Maid!—
Ye Streams that swell the winding Houghly's Tide,
The Seat of Commerce and the Muse's Pride,
F AREWELL —the Mariners unfurl the Sails,
Eager to meet the Pressure of the Gales;
And now the lofty Vessel cleaves the Way,
Dashing th' impelling Waves with silver Spray.—
Why springs my Heart with many an aching Sigh,
Why stands impearl'd the Trembler on mine eye?—
Alas—fond Mem'ry weeps the Vision past,
“For ever fled, like yonder sweeping Blast:”
Those Hours of Bliss, those Scenes of soft Delight,
Vanish like Mists before the Rays of Light;

But still Remembrance holds the Objects dear,
And bathes their Shadows with Regret's pure Tear;
Nor shall th' oblivious Pow'r of T IME subdue,
The painful Fellings of the last—A DIEU .