Mine only hope, my one sure source of strength.
Wild is the sea and inky dark the night.
One beacon shines!—the star upon thy brow. [[342]]
Sharp sin assails me; but thy look at length
Puts sin and grief and thoughts of death to flight!
—Translated by C. E. R.
MY RETREAT
By the spreading beach where the sands are soft and fine,
At the foot of the mount in its mantle of green,
I have built my hut in the pleasant grove’s confine;