Tents, Treasures, Tracy, and Companions gone;
In black, vile boat, on dreadfull billow tost
On salt-sea Lake, sat Emely alone.
On the dark waters melancholy shone 330
The clouded Regent of the wintry Sky;
The muddy Shore no feet might rest upon;
Beyond, with haggard Looks and threat’ning Eye,
Walk’d Man she fear’d to see, yet fear’d, unseen, to die.
And, while she fear’d to die and, living, fear’d,
A peril worse than Death she now espied.