Susanna Haswell Rowson (1762–1824)

WHEN Columbia’s shores receding,

Lessens to the gazing eye;

Cape nor island intervening,

Break the expanse of sea and sky;

When the evening shades descending,

Shed a softness o’er the mind,

When the yawning heart will wander,

To the circle left behind:

Ah, then to friendship fill the glass,

Kiss the brim and bid it pass.

When the social board surrounding,

At the evening’s slight repast,

Often will our bosoms tremble

As we listen to the blast;

Gazing on the moon’s pale lustre,

Fervent shall our prayers arise

For thy peace, thy health, thy safety,

To him who form’d the skies;

To Friendship oft we’ll fill the glass,

Kiss the brim and bid it pass.

When in India’s sultry climate,

Mid the burning torrid zone,

Will not oft thy fancy wander

From her bowers to thy own?

When her richest fruits partaking,

Thy unvitiated taste

Oft shall sigh for dear Columbia,

And her frugal neat repast;

Ah, then to Friendship fill the glass,

Kiss the brim and bid it pass.

When the gentle eastern breezes

Fill the home-bound vessel’s sails,

Undulating soft the ocean,

O, propitious be the gales;

Then when ev’ry danger’s over,

Rapture shall each heart expand;

Tears of unmix’d joy shall bid thee

Welcome to thy native land;

To Friendship then we’ll fill the glass,

Kiss the brim and bid it pass.