To yonder tall cliffs bending brow,
With beating breasts she urg’d her flight,
And would have sought the waves below!
But while, with steady gaze, she view’d
The foaming billows, void of fear,
Religion at her right-hand stood,
And whisper’d to her soul, “Forbear!”
And now the storm of grief was o’er;
Yet Melancholy’s weeping eye
Distill’d the slow and silent show’r,