by Miss Eliza Skelton.
Originally published in Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance (Chapman and Hall) vol.2 #11 (Dec 1842).
The flush of day had pass'd away, the sun had sunk to sleep,
And the quiet of the twilight hour lay brooding on the deep;
And the silver glory of the moon as yet was faint and far,
And through the fading crimson shone one solitary star.
The silver glory brighter grew, the crimson pass'd away,
And one by one each sister star came with her golden ray,
Till the full-orb'd beauty of the moon in perfect lustre shone,
And all the shining host of heaven were gather'd round her throne.
Upon that purple, twilight sea, two stately vessels met;
The breeze was light, the sky was calm, and every sail was set;
With snow-white heads that touch'd the sky, with streamers long and gay,
Two lonely things, they meet, and pass each on her lonely way.
They come—with bright and outspread wings, with gliding steps and slow,
And the parted ocean wakes and sings before each sable prow;
And the tiny billows rise and chafe against each swelling side,
Then foam and break on the shining wake that tracks the backward tide.
The Homeward and the Outward bound—from distant points they come—
One seeks some radiant foreign shore, and one is steering home;
And from each there soundeth a voice of joy, a voice of joy and pride,
As they meet, and greet, and pass away, on that blue and glassy tide.
"We sail for merry England, for our happy English land,—
Another week of sea and sky, and we shall touch the strand;
Through storms and clouds, through wind and calm, a thousand miles we come:
We sail for happy England, for our own beloved home!"
"We go to a land of sun and song, a land of scent and bloom—
Where the fountains leap like lights along through groves of faint perfume;
Where the nightingale her mournful lay is murmuring sad and low,
And golden blossoms stoop to kiss the golden waves below.
"There, 'mid dark rocks, the pearl-drop lies, the coral blushes red;
With shells that mock the rainbow's hues the yellow beach is spread,
And birds most beautiful and strange flit through the balmy air,
And silver lakes reflect a sky for ever calm and fair."
"But we sail for merry England, for our happy English shore—
Her white cliffs soon will greet our eyes, her welcome breakers roar,
Land of the mighty and the good! land of the brave and free!
We sail for happy England—and oh! who would choose with ye?"