Blew on his cheek, while full before his sight,
In distance softened, rolled the heaving sea;
Its billows flashed as brightly, and as free
Danced in the light, as when his fleet had pressed,
Broad and triumphant, ocean’s willing breast.
His ships were on the shore—dismantled, tost
By every wave that lashed the sandy coast;
Vain wrecks of hope and triumph, there they lay!
Oh! never mortal tongue may dare to say
What thoughts of anguish racked the monarch’s breast.