Herself deserted on the lonely shore.
The bark of the false Theseus was a speck
Scarce seen upon the waters, less and less,
Like hope diminishing, till wholly past.
I will not say, for you can fancy well,
Her desolate feelings as she roamed the beach,
Hurled from the highest heaven of happy love!
But evening crimsoned the blue sea, a sound
Of music and of mirth, came on the wind,
And radiant shapes and laughing nymphs danced by,