Unmann’d the heart, o’er forty years had made:
Poor George felt sad—indeed, well, well he might—
Whilst pondering o’er the last long-dreaded night;
He knew too well that when the morning came
To him his child would only be a name.
Thus then to pray’rs:—Upon their bended knee
They sent their orisons forth unto God, that He
Would grant to them (especially to her)
His favoring spirit, and His bounteous care.
And from its bounds the briny-liquid lept,