The knife and fork a quiet moment steal,
Slumber secure, and bless the idle meal;
The pensive master, leaning in his chair.
With manly patience mutters in despair—
England! show, with all thy fabled bliss,
One scene of real happiness like this!
Home.
Oh! for that happy day (compared with that,
All days are joyless and all pleasures flat,)
When filled with boundless raptures of delight,
I view low Saugor fading from the sight;
Hail in the welcome breeze a glad retreat
From shores that glisten with eternal heat;
And, as the bellying sails distended swell.
To heat and India bid a long farewell!
Where milder suns on happier seasons shine.
Be Britain's isle and British comfort mine;
Where kindred ties the passing hour endear.
Prompt the glad smile, and wipe the falling tear:
Where Liberty with Justice reigns entwined,
And wakes to life the virtues of the mind:
Where pure Devotion pours her heaven-taught prayer.
And awful piles a reverend aspect wear,
Their sacred spires amid the prospect smile,
And speak in grateful praise the favoured isle;
Unseen the barb'rous rite, the frantic train.
Unheard the shout that frights the idol fane!
Sweet is the view where nature's bounteous plan
Owes a last polish to industrious man!
Dear land! the best of thoughts where'er I stray.
At night my vision, and my theme by day.
