Than the strong bass of seaman’s ditty,)
Seem’d by the sea-gale round me flung,
Approaching sounds of female tongue!
No, Venus, no! Small right hast thou
To claim for this my grateful vow;
Nor on thine altar now bestows
My hand the gift of one poor rose!
No eager glance, no heighten’d dye
Blush’d on my cheek, nor fired mine eye;
I heard, nor felt, at each soft note,