Still Hebron's honoured happy soil retains
Our royal hero's beauteous dear remains;[405]
Who now sails off, with winds nor wishes slack,
To bring his sufferings' bright companion back.
But ere such transport can our sense employ,
A bitter grief must poison half our joy;
Nor can our coasts restored those blessings see
Without a bribe to envious destiny!
Cursed Sodom's doom forever fix the tide,
Where, by inglorious chance, the valiant died.