Guides thee from death? the country’s laid around for thee.
Women Pleased.
Did I but purpose to embark with thee
On a smooth surface of a Summer sea,
And would forsake the skiff and make the shore
When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar?
Prior.
A hopeless darkness settles o’er my fate —
I’ve seen the last look of her heavenly eyes;
I’ve heard the last sound of her blessed voice —