Ballad—in the Fortune Hunter

For wedlock's a voyage, where, should boisterous billows; Arise to disturb of our lives the calm sea, Peace, joy, and delight, would, deserting our pillows, Leave behind a strong wish once again to get free. Domestic disquiet, like quicksand or shallow, Would the vessel of Love shock in every part, Rocks of Anger would, bruise her, or Hates ocean swallow, And the tempest of Marriage would shipwreck the heart.

But gayly her course through the sea of life bending, With a surface that kisses the generous gale, Each effort, each wish, each affection, still tending To steer by Love's compass, and hoist Reason's sail.

The senses, that crew of the mind, all in motion, To make the voyage prosp'rous exert ev'ry art, While the vessel tow'rs on the face of the ocean, 'Till in wedlock's kind haven rides safely the heart.