"And deem'd the breath that faintly fann'd thy sail—
"The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale;
"Though soft—it seem'd the low prophetic dirge,
"That mourn'd thee floating on the savage surge:
"Still would I rise—to rouse the beacon fire,
"Lest spies less true should let the blaze expire;
"And many a restless hour outwatch'd each star,
"And morning came—and still thou wert afar.
"Oh! how the chill blast on my bosom blew,
"And day broke dreary on my troubled view, 380
"And still I gazed and gazed—and not a prow
"Was granted to my tears—my truth—my vow!
"At length—'twas noon—I hail'd and blest the mast
"That met my sight—it near'd—Alas! it past!
"Another came—Oh God! 'twas thine at last!
"Would that those days were over! wilt thou ne'er,
"My Conrad! learn the joys of peace to share?
"Sure thou hast more than wealth—and many a home
"As bright as this invites us not to roam:
"Thou know'st it is not peril that I fear, 390
"I only tremble when thou art not here;
"Then not for mine—but that far dearer life,
"Which flies from love and languishes for strife—