iS 
TO A DOVE, AT SEA. 
Fond, faithful bird ! could I inherit 
Thy gentle form, to roam as thee ; 
Or unseen, like aérial spirit, 
Throw off this cold mortality— 
Ev’n in this hour, my bounding soul 
Should be absolved from earth’s control. 
Softly sleep, thou beauteous Dove! 
Pillow’d on my heart, repose ; 
Till, rising toward his throne above, 
The sun, in glorious splendour, throws 
His beams around! then borne on wing, 
I ’ll leave thee to thy wandering. 
