Classic Poem

I see once more my native land,
My native hills before me rise;
One fleeting hour, and I shall stand
Beneath the light of native skies!
Fly on, proud bird! thy rapid wing
Speeds, like my anxious heart before;
Though soon the favoring breeze must bring
Our gallant vessel to the shore.

Sparkles the wine and beams the glass?
Then pour it to the radiant rim;
And, comrades, swiftly let it pass,
For why should our bright eyes be dim?
Bright eyes! ah, no! the merry glance
Has faded from such eyes as mine,
And we, like knights of old Romance,
Come homeward as from Palestine.

We come, with early hopes decayed, —
With early passions all subdued;
The pleasant realm that Fancy made
Changed to a real solitude!
And yet, where rises, soft and clear,
O'er the blue waves yon long-left strand —
How lonely those gray rocks appear,
That sentinel our father-land!

How dream we of fond hearts, that beat
Responsive ever to our own,
Hand clasped in hand, and looks that meet,
And thoughts of past years backward flown;
And tears that mothers shed for joy,
And smiles of kindred, as they trace
Some likeness of the happy boy
In that pale brow and thought-worn face.

But see! from shore the beacons shine,
As nearer, nearer — on we sail; —
Fill up the glass, for song and wine,
Will lend new freshness to the gale!
A moment — and the lights of home,
Swift as the stars when evening falls,
Will gleam from steeple, tower, and dome,
From lowly roofs and lofty walls.

One moment — ha! across the sea,
Where tall masts like a forest seem,
From yonder turret, fair and free,
The signals of our coming stream;
The parting glass! fill, shipmates dear,
You to your pledge — and I to mine!
Drink not — but with one jovial cheer
Fling on the water glass and wine!