When nature sprung,
Blest angels sung,
And shouted o'er the rising ball;
For strains as high
As man's can fly,
These sea-devoted honours call.
From boist'rous seas,
The lap of ease
Receives our wounded, and our old;
High domes ascend!
Stretch'd arches bend!
Proud columns swell! wide gates unfold!
Here, soft reclin'd,
From wave, from wind,
And fortune's tempest safe ashore,
To cheat their care,
Of former war
They talk the pleasing shadows o'er.
In lengthen'd tales,
Our fleet prevails;
In tales the lenitives of age!
And o'er the bowl,
They fire the soul
Of list'ning youth, to martial rage.
Unhappy they!
And falsely gay!
Who bask for ever in success;
A constant feast
Quite palls the taste,
And long enjoyment is distress.
When, after toil,
His native soil
The panting mariner regains,
What transport flows
From bare repose!
We reap our pleasure from our pains.
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