Then, if ye deign this effort to inspire,
When the sad task is o’er, my plaintive lyre,
For ever hush’d, shall slumber in your fane.
SONNET 80.
“Como quando do mar tempestuoso.”
Saved from the perils of the stormy wave,
And faint with toil, the wanderer of the main,
But just escaped from shipwreck’s billowy grave,
Trembles to hear its horrors named again.
How warm his vow, that Ocean’s fairest mien