The bay is dotted with a hundred boats,
And brightly on the sail of many a skiff
The evening sun is shining, as it floats
Upon the water, shining thus as if
To tell the little skiff, as on she goes,
That he will guard her from tempestuous foes.
XVI.
In every boat I see, a maiden fair
Accompanies the rower, and the sound
Of merriment and laughter on the air
Arises, softly echoing around.
And all seem bright and happy, and have one
To keep them so—I only sit alone.
XVII.
I sit alone as they pass joyous by,
Nor note my presence; or, if they should see,
Their eyes but rest upon me absently,
Then turn away. They all are strange to me,
And I to them. More lonely is my mood
Here, than in Nature's wildest solitude.
A pang of emulation, so severe
'Tis almost envy, now possesses me;
And, were I woman, many a bitter tear
Would course my cheeks. But now I am not free
To weep; my heart, though throbbing in its pain,
Uneased and comfortless must yet remain.
XIX.
Why stand I thus, and gaze upon this scene,
Since gazing but rewakes the pain that slept?
I had not thought that I should thus have been
So quickly cheated of the strength which kept
My heart from sorrowing. My pliant thought,
Suspecting not this subtlety, was caught,