240 So He purposed, but in vain; the ardent youth Rescued her--her whom more than life he loved, Ev'n when the horrid day of sacrifice Drew nigh.

He pointed to the distant bark, And while he kissed a stealing tear that fell On her pale cheek, as trusting she reclined Her head upon his breast, with ardour cried-- Be mine, be only mine! the hour invites; Be mine, be only mine! So won, she cast 250 A look of last affection on the towers Where she had passed her infant days, that now Shone to the setting sun.

I follow thee, Her faint voice said; and lo! where in the air A sail hangs tremulous, and soon her feet Ascend the vessel's side: The vessel glides Down the smooth current, as the twilight fades, Till soon the woods of Severn, and the spot Where D'Arfet's solitary turrets rose, Is lost; a tear starts to her eye, she thinks 260 Of him whose gray head to the earth shall bend, When he speaks nothing--but be all, like death, Forgotten.

Gently blows the placid breeze, And oh! that now some fairy pinnace light Might flit across the wave (by no seen power Directed, save when Love upon the prow Gathered or spread with tender hand the sail), That now some fairy pinnace, o'er the surge Silent, as in a summer's dream, might waft The passengers upon the conscious flood 270 To regions bright of undisturbed joy! But hark! The wind is in the shrouds;--the cordage sings With fitful violence;--the blast now swells, Now sinks.

Dread gloom invests the further wave, Whose foaming toss alone is seen, beneath The veering bowsprit.
Oh, retire to rest, Maiden, whose tender heart would beat, whose cheek Turn pale to see another thus exposed! 280 Hark! the deep thunder louder peals--Oh, save!-- The high mast crashes; but the faithful arm Of love is o'er thee, and thy anxious eye, Soon as the gray of morning peeps, shall view Green Erin's hills aspiring! The sad morn Comes forth; but terror on the sunless wave Still, like a sea-fiend, sits, and darkly smiles Beneath the flash that through the struggling clouds Bursts frequent, half revealing his scathed front, 290 Above the rocking of the waste that rolls Boundless around.
No word through the long day She spoke;--another slowly came;--no word The beauteous drooping mourner spoke.