And warmly paint, their leisure to beguile,
The fallen angel of th’ enchanted isle.
At length this wonder reach’d the abbot’s ear,
And prompt affection made the wonder clear:—
“’Twas Irza! shipwreck’d Irza! none but she
So heav’nly fair, so lonely lost could be!”
Straight he prepares anew that sea to brave,
Which once already seem’d to yawn his grave;
Nor ask, how chanced it that he reach’d the shore:
It was through a miracle and nothing more.