No tender pity touched that sordid mind— }

To thee, brave Albert! was the charge consign’d. }

The stately ship forsaking England’s shore

To regions far remote Palemon bore.

Incapable of change, th’ unhappy youth

Still loved fair Anna with eternal truth;

Still Anna’s image swims before his sight

In fleeting vision through the restless night;

From clime to clime an exile doomed to roam,

His heart still panted for its secret home.