Until at length they hear the sounding sea,
In all the grandeur of Eternity!
A solemn, strange, a holy Caravan!
When was the like thereof beheld by man?
Now waft him homeward in the gallant ship,
Expanding her white wings for a long flight!
It is not far from when we look'd for him.
In Maytime we had hoped to greet the sail,
Wafting our stainless conqueror to rest
In his own land, irradiate with love,
Wearing our well-earn'd honour on his brow.
Then bells would have peal'd over him, and flowers
Strewn his triumphant path, and shouts of joy
Have rent the summer air to welcome him.
So we have welcomed our victorious
Warriors yesterday from Africa—
And so alas! have mourn'd the noble band,
Who, call'd by honour, gloriously died.
A sail is sighted—he is coming home.
