On corals gay, myriads lay,
In their last silent sleep.
Beneath the wave, a wat’ry grave
They’ve found. No more they’ll roam—
’Neath ocean’s wave they’ve found a home.
The Exiled Prisoner.
Lines occasioned by the Story of an Exile who died of grief on meeting a former friend.
I met him in his gloomy cell,
Where all alone and sad,
He spent the darksome day and night