“The morning watch was come; the vessel lay Her course, and gently made her liquid way; The cloven billow flashed from off her prow In furrows formed, by that majestic plough. ‘Huzza for Otaheite!’ was the cry. The gentle island and the genial soil, The friendly hearts, the feasts without a toil, The courteous manners, but from nature caught, The wealth unhoarded, and the love unbought.…
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