A bark hath anchor’d in the unruffled bay:
Thence on the beach descends a female form,[135]
Her mien with hope and tearful transport warm;
But life hath left sad traces on her cheek,
And her soft eyes a chasten’d heart bespeak,
Inured to woes—yet what were all the past!
She sank not feebly ’neath affliction’s blast,
While one bright hope remain’d—who now shall tell
Th’ uncrown’d, the widow’d, how her loved one fell?
To clasp her child, to ransom and to save,