The wind was hush'd, the fleecy wave

The wind was hush'd, the fleecy wave
Scarcely the vessel's sides could lave,
When in the mizen top his stand
Tom Clueline taking, spied the land.
Oh what reward for all his toil!
Once more he views his native soil,
Once more he thanks indulgent fate,
That brings him to his bonny Kate.

Soft as the sighs of Zephyr flow,
Tender and plaintive as her woe,
Serene was the attentive eve,
That heard Tom's bonny Kitty grieve.
'Oh what avails,' cried she, 'my pain?
'He's swallow'd in the greedy main:
'Ah never shall I welcome home,
'With tender joy, my honest Tom.'

Now high upon the faithful shroud,
The land awhile that seemed a cloud,
While objects from the mist arise,
A feast presents Tom's longing eyes.
A ribband near his heart which lay,
Now see him on his hat display,
The given sign to shew that fate
Had brought him safe to bonny Kate.

Near to a cliff whose heights command
A prospect of the shelly strand,
While Kitty fate and fortune blamed,
Sudden, with rapture, she exclaimed,
'But see, oh heaven! a ship in view,
'My Tom appears among the crew,
'The pledge he swore to bring safe home,
'Streams on his hat—'tis honest Tom.

What now remains were easy told,
Tom comes, his pockets lined with gold,
Now rich enough no more to roam,
To serve his king, he stays at home;
Recounts each toil, and shews each scar,
While Kitty and her constant tar
With rev'rence teach to bless their fates
Young honest Toms and bonny Kates.