Of Heaven the unhappy mariner, the mark

Of tempests bearing on him wild and dark;

And on the altars, when are gain’d the shores,

Faithful to the Deity he adores,

He consecrates the relics of his bark.

TO HIS HORSE.

Friend of my hours of melancholy gloom,

To soothe me now, come, scouring o’er the plain;

Bear me that I forgetfulness may gain,