LINES, Occasioned by the much opposed departure of a Friend, upon a long and hazardous voyage.
He is gone, he is fled from my view,
O'er you rolling surges to bound,
Yet still my soft wishes pursue,
And still will be hovering around.
My suit the dear wand'rer withstood,
Though tenderness plead on my side,
Resolv'd, and inflexibly good,
For reason was ever his guide.
And now I am left on the shore!
Enlisted with sorrow and pain!
Reflection exists to deplore,
Joy shall not revisit again!
My prospects all barren appear,
The wintry blasts are abroad,
No hand to protect me is near,
And hope is well nigh destroy'd!
At midnight when all are at rest,
My pillow is wet with my tears;
Anxiety tortures my breast,
And yields me a prey to my fears:
Now sickness with prevalent sway,
All pallid arranges its bands,
While every pulse must obey,
And none its dread influence withstands.
Then pirates the ship may invade,
With slaughter and violence crown'd,
How many the ocean infest,
How ready for interest to wound:
The mariners careless may prove,
Accustom'd all dangers to brave,
A spark, and the ship is in flames!
They whelm in a watery grave!
And still to complete the dread scene,
My soul to transfix with despair,
The rocks and the sands intervene,
Tempestuous waves in the rear;
A ship-wreck; how dreadful the sound!
'Tis heaven alone can enshield,
The billows are foaming around,
And the sky no redemption can yield!
How fearful the cried which resound,
What different passions assail;
No hope of relief can be found,
And every succour must fail!
I listen, and think I can hear
The bellowing winds as they rise,
In every danger I share,
And I swell the loud blasts with my sighs.
And if when o'ercharged with grief,
I yield to the pressure of sleep,
So far from obtaining relief,
In dreams I forget not to weep:
Dark specters still haunt my repose,
'Tis distemper'd and feverish all,
My lids I reluctantly close,
At nature's imperious call.
O! had I the wings of the morn,
Or could I be borne on a thought,
No more by anxiety torn,
With fear and inquietude fraught.
With the lightnings swift speed I would fly,
The watery world to explore,
Then breathe of sweet friendship the sigh,
Sweet friendship which peace can restore.
And is my Philanthropos gone,
And left me his absence to mourn,
And will not my Exile return,
On wings of complacency borne?
Oh cease ye rude tempest to beat,
Blow soft I conjure you ye winds,
Ye surges with danger replete,
My happiness on you depends.
Arise ye soft glazes of the West,
Favonian breezes which swell,
The voyage of its horrors divest,
And gently the vessel impel:
And when to the Albion shore,
My friend is in safety convey'd,
Then may he with transport explore,
Those haunts which his fancy pourtray'd.
The Matron in youth so rever'd,
O may he with extacy press,
The hand which his infancy rear'd,
Determined to succour and bless;
But when in his own natal seat,
His soul hath dilated awhile,
With duteous rapture replete,
The sorrows of age to beguile.
May tender remembrance arise,
HONORA descend to his view,
Emotions which friendship supplies,
And virtue delights to pursue.
Then speed him o'er yon rolling deep,
Ye zephyrs unfurl the white sail,
Give storms in the caverns to sleep,
And whisper the sweet vernal gale.
Celestials who watch the blue waves,
Propicious regard my soft prayer,
'Tis Mercy, sweet Deity, saves,
Then make the lov'd Wanderer thy care.
Restore him to friendship again,
Once more to illumine the scene,
So hope shall my bosom sustain,
Nor absence again intervene.
Then joy shall suffuse my wan cheek,
And mantling pleasures shall flow,
Of goodness divine, I will speak,
With rapture my breast it shall glow:
For amity social and pure,
And love as its author refin'd,
In paradise which shall endure,
The bands of our union shall bind.
Our holy days too shall abound,
The Sabbath of rest shall approach,
Devotion enkindle around,
Nor ought on its vigils encroach:
The circling clouds shall collect
Redemption the theme we will choose,
With gratitude glowing reflect,
'Till none shall its blessings refuse.
Religion with reason thus crown'd,
With wreaths of benevolence twin'd,
Its pleasures shall clutter around,
And bands of contentment shall bind.
Fair liberty budding on truth
Shall smile on the eve of our days,
'Till cloath'd with perennial youth,
We swell the long tribute of praise.
HONORA MARTESIA
Boston Weekly Magazine
December 4, 1802
No. VI, Vol. I, p. 24
[Notes: Judith Sargent Murray's husband, John Murray (1741-1815), the first Universalist preacher to come to America, made occasional visits home to England ("Albion shore") to visit his mother and other relatives.]