'Tis he, 'tis he alone,
For like him there is none:
'Tis the dear, dear man, 'tis thee, dear.
Amyn. Hark! the winds war,
The foaming waves roar:
I see a ship afar,
Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore.
But what's that I view,
So radiant of hue,
St Hermo, St Hermo[68], that sits upon the sails?