Song II. the Heaving of the Lead

When sailing for Columbia's land, With fav'ring gale our ship we steer'd; And scudding up to gain the strand, The lofty pines at length appear'd. To heave the lead the seaman sprung, And to the pilot cheerly sung, By the deep Nike!

And bearing up, to gain the port, Some well known object kept in view, An Abbey tow'r an harbour sort; Or, beacon, to the vessel true, While oft the lead the seaman flung, And to the pilot cheerly sung, "By the mark seven.

And as the much lov'd thore was near, With transport we beheld the roof; Where dwelt a friend or partner dear, Of faith and love a matchless proof. The lead once more the seaman flung, And to the watchful pilot sung, "Quarter less five.