5. O, that this heart, whose unspeakable treasure
Of love hath been wasted so vainly on clay,
Like thine, unallured by the phantom of pleasure,
Could rend every earthly affection away.
And yet, in thy presence, the billows subsiding
Obey the strong effort of reason and will,
And my soul, in her pristine tranquillity gliding,
Is calm as when God bade the ocean be still.
6. Thy soothing, how gentle! thy pity, how tender!
Choir-music thy voice is—thy step angel grace,