HIGH on the bounding bark the Royal Fair
Mounts o'er the billows of the watery way;
Serene as Cynthia thro' the fields of air,
Queen of the Night extends her cloudless ray,
When all the forests tremble to the gleam,
And the transparent seas reflect the silver beam.
But see the whitening surge, the gathering clouds;
Hark! the winds whistle thro' the shrowds,
They bow the mast, they rend the sail,
The sea-worn mariner is pale,
And views the blackening storm, and hears th' increasing gale.
But not, O Royal Maid,
Let Fear thy breast invade:
Know, happy Fair! approv'd by heaven,
To thee the empire of the Main is given,
In vain loud winds the deep deform,
Love shall triumphant ride the storm.
Peace! every roaring child of troubled air:
Unmov'd the Queen of sea-girt Albion sings;
Her flying fingers touch the strings;
Around their Queen the trembling train repair:
Her courage lifts their own;
Her music sooths their care.