One morning early, while the gray And sleeping mist on the river lay, Ere yet the sun from his ocean bed Had tinged the distant hills with red, In quest of game Sir John had gone Far down the river vale alone; And standing on a gentle height He view’d the silver winding James-- What vision glances on his sight? What sudden fire his cheek inflames? Is that a sail? Is that a ship, Glides slowly round the headland dim? With straining eye and parted lip, He breathless stands, with moveless limb, And throws his eager look afar, Like the quick shooting of a star. A sail? a ship? He looks again-- It is, it is--he sees it plain; He sees the sails, he sees the hull, An English flag at mast-head flies: And now his throbbing heart is full, And tears are crowding to his eyes; Those eyes which had not known a tear, Before this hour, for many a year. III. With a light heart, and step as light, He soon retraced his homeward route, And there the ship was full in sight, And all the colonists were out And gazing off upon the river. With pious thankfulness some lift Their eyes and hands to the great Giver Of every good and perfect gift; Some, wild with joy, run here and there, Grasping each other’s eager hand; Some with quick motion beat the air, And some like moveless statues stand. Slowly the ship comes sailing on, And now she rides abreast the town; The sailors up the shrouds have gone, The ponderous anchor plunges down, And curbs her gently to the breeze, Like a proud steed that feels the bit; And now she heads the rippling seas, And her furling sails on the long yards flit. A light boat launches from the shore, Each oarsman nimbly plies his oar Across the waters, bright and clear. The tall ship rapidly they near, And soon, half lost to view, they glide To the deep shadow of her side, Where the rocking boat seems but a speck; Man after man mounts to the deck, And here Sir John with joyous smile Greets Newport from Britannia’s isle. IV. A thousand questions now are ask’d, And a thousand answers given; Sir John tells how with savages, And famine, he has striven; How in his light and open barge, With scarce a dozen men, He had scour’d the mighty Chesapeake, Round all her shores had been, And up the rivers from the bay To where the waters fall, And seen the wild and warlike tribes, And dared the power of all. V.