  'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!' I have no ties to bind me To any spot on earth; I leave no love behind me, No warm familiar hearth; But I roam with the changeful wind Upon the changeful sea, Mid isles that shed their fragrance forth Like the blessed Araby; And in the deep and cloudless night, We watch each dewy star, And our fancies rove through that shadowy light, Where the gentle spirits are: Nor while upon the deep We wander far and free, Are we mariners without Our own wild minstrelsy; And the night-breeze seems to catch the song, And bear it on its wing: And the laughing waves seem to echo far The voice of our carolling: And then we see the unwelcome shark Gliding beneath our lee; Gently he looketh up, but we Trust not his love of harmony; Strange playful fish are gambolling Around our white-winged bark, All harmless, gladsome things are they, Except that soft-eyed shark. When the foam, torn from the billow, Flies furious and fast, And the good mast, like a sapling, Bends to the mighty blast, With steady heart and ready arm, Fearless, unmoved, we stand— (Our bright bow flashing through the sea,) My own, my gallant band! O! who would be a man Fettered, instead of free! A sluggard at his hearth, With a bantling on his knee! While there are seas to pass, While there are winds to blow, O! who would be content With tales of long ago! While there is knowledge waiting, As fruit upon a tree, Which we for others gather, Over the mystic sea! I like not traveller's stories, Told at the blazing hearth, Of wild and wondrous wandering On ocean and on earth; When the wine foams in the goblet With its glorious ruby light, Imagination sparkles Proportionately bright. In wonder opened wide, At hair-breadth 'scapes from shot and steel, From rock and tempest tide. As each adventure wilder grows Of the traveller's bold career, The listeners gather closer round, And cross themselves for fear; And many an anxious glance is cast Around the shadowy room, As if some horrid spectacle Lay lurking in the gloom. But I love, in my own good bark, And with my gallant crew, To wander free where fancy leads Over the waters blue: To speak with new-found people, Of the world a fresh-turned page; O! grateful bounds my spirit, That I live in a gallant age! O! if the tame ones of the earth Could taste the deep delight, Of feeling free upon the main, Whose sway is the bold man's right, The sea would swarm with rovers, Whose zeal would never sleep, While anxiously they gathered The treasures of the deep! Montreal, August, 1837. |
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