And the tempest shrieked loud round my storm-beaten bark,
That arose, ’mid the darkness, thy radiant form,
Like the rainbow illuming the brow of the storm.
An angel thou seemedst, that had come to the earth,
To guide me—to nourish my heart in its dearth;
And blindly, as Paynim kneels down to his god,
I have loved thee—have worshiped the earth thou hast trod.
But this waste of affection—this prodigal part—
Is over—the mask has been torn from thy heart—
And back with affright and amazement I shrink—