40. The Haven
|
{86}
WHENCE is this awe, by stillness spread |
| O'er the
world-fretted soul? |
| Wave rear'd on wave its godless head, |
| While my keen bark, by breezes sped, |
| Dash'd fiercely through the ocean bed, |
| And chafed towards
its goal. |
But now there reigns so deep a rest, |
| That I could almost
weep. |
| Sinner! thou hast in this rare guest |
| Of Adam's peace a figure blest; |
| 'Tis Eden neared, though not possess'd, |
| Which cherub-flames
still keep. |
Gibraltar.
December 16, 1832. |