Him wrapt in deep sleep ever, to the shore:
It bore him safely through the foam and spray,
High up on land, where couched ’mid flowers he lay.
Sweet tones first woke him from his sleep, when round
His couch observant multitudes he found:
All hailed him then, and did before him bow,
And with one voice exclaimed,—“Our King art thou.”
With jubilant applause they bore him on,
And set him wondering on a royal throne:
And some his limbs with royal robes arrayed,