Drops the bright tear when anxious Fancy paints
Upon his mind the image of the Maid,
The blue-eyed Maid who died beneath thy surge.
Where yon dark cliff[13] o'ershadows the blue main,
Theora died amidst the stormy waves,
And on its feet the sea-dews wash'd her corpse,
And the wild breath of storms shook her black locks.
Young was Theora; bluer was her eye
Than the bright azure of the moonlight night;
Fair was her cheek as is the ocean cloud