She wept the terrors of the fearful wave,
Too oft, alas! the wandering lover’s grave:
With soft persuasion I dispelled her fear,
And from her cheek beguiled the falling tear,
While dying fondness languished in her eyes,
She poured her soul to heaven in suppliant sighs:
‘Look down with pity, O ye powers above!
Who hear the sad complaint of bleeding love;
Ye, who the secret laws of fate explore,
Alone can tell if he returns no more;