Never - that fairy isle can be
No lengthen'd resting-place of mine;
I love it dearest when I see
Its shadow lengthen on the brine:
And then my heart with softness fills;
I think upon its palmy groves,
I hear the murmur of its rills,
I hear the singing of its doves.
I see the white catalpa bend,
As when beneath thy whiter hand,
The buds in snowy showers descend,
To wreath for thy dark hair a band:
And then I sigh to be on shore
To linger languid at thy side;
I think that I will part no more
From thee, my own, my idol bride.
O, only those who part can know
How dear the love that absence brings;
O'er wind and wave my fancies go,
As if my very heart had wings:
And yet, when listless on the land,
Impatient in my happiness,
I long again to grasp my brand,
Again I long the deck to press.
I love to see my red flag sweep;
I love to see my sabre shine;
Almost as much I love the deep
As I love those sweet eyes of thine.
I bring thee treasures from afar;
For thy dear sake I sweep the sea;
But for the honour won in war,
I should be too unworthy thee.
Author's Note: The sail from Penang to Singapore presents the loveliest succession of scenery which ocean can produce.
The sea is studded with tracts of fairy land, glittering like emeralds in the golden sun, where the waving trees dip their long branches into the water, where the smooth sands are covered with shells, sparkling with all the hues of the prism. Birds, too, of Orient plumage, skim over the surface of the silver sea, or glance in and out from groves laden with fruit and flowers. The land, locked by these flowery labyrinths, retains its tranquillity even during the summer tempests.