Told o’er her beads, and when the string was said,
“Ave Maria!” sang the enraptured maid;
Her look so humble, so devout her air,
Each worldly wish appeared so lost in prayer,
All felt, no thought could to her mind be near,
That man her form could see, her voice could hear:
Hushed all the ship!—Each sailor checked his glee,
Clasped his hard hands, and bent his trembling knee;
And each (as rose that soft mysterious strain,
Best help in trouble, and sweet balm in pain)