Far off his ship was anchor’d; on that strand
Not India’s wealth could make a layman land!
Therefore with none but monks he mann’d his barge,
Which bore of beads and bells a sacred charge;
Whole heaps of relics lent by Cintra’s nuns,
And holy water (blest at Rome) by tons!
His toils were all o’erpaid! he saw again
His fav’rite child, and kindly soothed her pain;
And while her tale he heard, oft dropp’d a tear,
And sign’d his beard-swept breast in awe and fear: