The Shipwrecked Boy at Home

The goddess of war threw her spear on the ground, And Peace wav'd her olive-branch gracefully round, A stillness now reign'd o'er the wide-spreading main, The Syrens began a melodious strain; The ship-wrecked sea-boy his troubles forgot, The yawn of the waves and the whistling shot, His dear native home strongly press'd on his mind, His parents and sisters so loving and kind.

He hurry'd fast on with his heart all elate, To embrace them around, and his story relate, His hard-earned wages he long'd to divide, 'Mongst those that he lov'd near his own fire-side; But when he arriv'd, say what pen can express The genial delight, the joy in excess; So welcome at home was this brave little guest, You'd have thought that their welcoming ne'er would have ceas'd.

He hail'd 'em around, and he smiled with glee, Cry'd, hold out your hands, take this present from me; A fine silken 'kerchief, each neck to enfold, But gave to his parents a purse full of gold; The fidler was sent for that liv'd on the green, Such dancing and romping sure never was seen; They gambol'd, 'till Phoebus peep'd over the shed, Then kissing, and blessing, went peaceful to bed.