When o'er the Atlantic wild, rocked by the blast, Sad Lusitania's exiled sovereign passed, Reft of her pomp, from her paternal throne Cast forth, and wandering to a clime unknown,...
Oh thou, that prattling on thy pebbled way Through my paternal vale dost stray, Working thy shallow passage to the sea! Oh, stream, thou speedest on The same as many seasons gone; But not, alas, to me...