Chapter 81 No.81

Again their own shore rises on the view,

No more polluted with a hostile hue;

No sullen ship lay bristling o'er the foam,

A floating dungeon:-all was Hope and Home!

A thousand Proas darted o'er the bay,

With sounding shells, and heralded their way;

The chiefs came down, around the people poured,

And welcomed Torquil as a son re