While hidden sands, and every greedy wave
With horror gap'd themselves into a grave:
Sometimes upon a rock with fury thrown,
20Moaning himself, where none could hear his moan;
Sometimes cast out upon the barren sand,
Expos'd to th' mercy of a barbarous land:
Such was the pious Johnson, till kind Heaven
A blessèd end to all his toils had given:
To show that virtuous men, though they appear
But Fortune's sport, are Providence's care.