The lorn Boy hasten’d; there the rushy couch,
The pillow still indented, met his gaze
And fix’d his eve in madness.—From that hour
A maniac wild, the Alien Boy has been;
His garb with sea-weeds fring’d, and his wan cheek
The tablet of his mind, disorder’d, chang’d,
Fading, and worn with care. And if, by chance,
A Sea-beat wand’rer from the outstretch’d main
Views the lone Exile, and with gen’rous zeal
Hastes to the sandy beach, he suddenly