APPROACH TO ENGLAND.

��LAND ! Land ! The sailor hears no sweeter sound ! And the tired voyager leaps up, to catch Through lifted glass yon misty line, that marks On the horizon s edge his destined goal.

Warm-hearted Erin, to the utmost verge

Of old Kinsale, dipping her snowy foot

In the cold surge, came forth, and held a light,

And breathed good wishes on our venturous way.

But then we lost her, and went groping on,

Day after day, fog-wrapt and full of fear,

O er the vexed Channel, the resounding lead

Probing its depths, and he who ruled our bark

Sleepless, and marked with care for those who gave

Both life and fortune to his faithful charge.

Would that I loved thee, Ocean !

I had heard

Much of thy praise, in story and in song, And oft by fancy lured, was half prepared To worship thee. But t is a weary life To be a child of thine. Thou hast a smile

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