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LANDING. 



When first I gain'd the Atlantic shore, 



And bade farewell to ocean's roar, 



What gracious power my bosom eased, 



My senses soothed, my fancy pleased, 



And bade me feel, in whispers bland, 



No Stranger in a Stranger-land ? 



'T was not at length my goal to reach, 



And tread Jamaica's burning beach : 



'T was not from Neptune's chains discharged, 



To move, think, feel with powers enlarged : 



Nor that no more my bed the wave, 



Ere morning dawn'd, might prove my grave : — 



A livelier chord was struck : a spell, 



While heav'd my heart with gentle swell, 



Crept o'er my soul with magic sweet, 



And made each pulse responsive beat. 



No Sheep-bell e'er to Pilgrim's ear, 

 Wandering in woods unknown and drear ; 

 No midnight lay to Spanish maid, 

 Conscious by whom the lute was played ; 

 Not on the breeze the sounding wings 

 Of him who nurture homeward brings 

 To mother-bird, whose callow brood 

 Pain her fond heart with chirps for food, — 

 E'er seem'd more charming than to me, 

 ( When two long months had past at sea, 

 During whose course my thirsty ear 

 No softer voice, no strain could hear 

 Nearer allied to love and pity, 

 Than the strong bass of seaman's ditty,) 

 Seem'd by the sea-gale round me flung, 

 Approaching sounds of female tongue ! 

 F 4 



