Canto IX

But now forsaken Fatma claims our care—
Ah ! when her lovely charge the waves among,
Plung'd, with infolding arms round Huon flung,
Poor Fatma, day and night in deep despair,
Had never ceas'd with unabated moan
To weep Amanda's misery, and her own-
In vain she cries, she shrieks, she rends her hair,
All with a breath is vanish'd into air :
All with a breath away hope's baseless fabrick flown.

Ah ! what her fate ? in sorrow unconsol'd,
Mid the rude offspring of the boist'rous flood,
Who laugh to scorn her melancholy mood,
And with wild eyes in drunken passion roll'd,
Already swallow their defenceless prey —
What can the horrours of her doom allay ?
Indignant blasts that long and loudly rave,
The shrieking damsel from their fury save,
And drive the staggering ship o'er ocean's stormy way.

As droop the crew with speechless fear aghast,
The pinnace reels where'er the tempests blow,
Now west, now south, still drifting to and fro—
The demon of the air that rode the blast
Now curbs his rage — scarce rescu'd from the grave,
And safe at Tunis from the stormy wave,
The captain, careless of the maiden's wo,
Turns to his profit fate's malignant blow,
And sells, without remorse, poor Fatma as a slave.

Fatma, who scarce the five and thirtieth time
Had seen fair May her blooming robe unfold,
Was not a flow Vet mid that tribe inroll'd
Whose lustre passes with their vernal prime.
No, of that hardy stock her growth appears,
That still sustains unchang'd the waste of years :
That hardy stock where pleasure loves to trace
Fire in the eye, and many a dimpling grace,
That still, when youth decays, with lasting beauty cheers.

Just at that time the sultan's gard'ner came,
Came to the place, by lucky fortune brought,
Where for a trifle might be lightly bought
This precious ware — he views, he likes the dame ;
And as he deems her worth beyond the price,
Disdains to ask his hoary head advice.
His gulistan has all but this sweet rose—
The gold is quickly weigh'd — poor Fatma goes—
And what she cannot change, to bear with patience tries.

Meanwhile, a wind from fav'ring heav'n extends
Reluctant Sherasmin's unshifting sails.
No sooner is he landed at Marseilles,
Than swift, as one whose life on flight depends,
Forward to Paris is the courier sped —
Mounts the near hill, and, while before him spread
At dawn, the city strikes his ravish'd eyes,
Where all in peaceful slumber stilly lies ;
Poor wight ! distracting thoughts confuse his luckless head.

" Halt !" says his spirit to him, " hold, my son !
" And ere we further trot, bethink thee well,
" What thou design'st — and let me freely tell,
" That thy impatience has thy wits outrun,
" Or thou hadst long ere this the danger weigh'd—
" True — when at Askalon fair breezes play'd,
" They left thee, for reflection, little pause —
" Yet if we fairly, friend ! discuss the cause,
" There thou hadst wisely stopp'd, by cautious fear delay'd.

" For, between you and me, 'tis clear as light,
" This embassy is void of common sense :
" It doubly sharpens every old offence,
" And swells the emperour's rage to boundless height.
" Shame 'twere to hurt this casket, after all—
" Come, for its precious sake thy wits recall !
" This handful of goats hair, these grinders too,
" Heaven knows from whose old jaws — it will not do —
" Your excellence ! I fear, it must but ill befall !

" Yes, if the knight himself, with princely state,
" Horsemen caparison'd in sumptuous pride,
" And with the caliph's daughter by his side,
" Should proudly stalk, harangue with flow'ry prate,
" Bows out of number, and each fit grimace
" That suits knight, duke, and peer, in courtly place,
" Were beard and teeth on crimson velvet laid,
" Where golden tassels at each corner play'd,
" I grant 'twere wisely done — success might crown our case.

" Then comes the pomp of entry, solemn show,
" The sun-like radiance of the Eastern bride,
" That gilds the proud procession far and wide —
" String each by each together in a row ;
" These things have weight, and all runs smoothly round :
" The emperour cannot veer, by justice bound—
" There are the proofs — he handles, sees all right ;
" The knight has kept his promise like a knight,
" None dare his claim withstand, by honour nobly crown'd.

" But these divided, piecemeal fall away:
" If thy wise skull (alas ! I sorely fear !)
" Is not more wise than his who sent thee here"—
' Well then, what counsel ? shall I go, or stay ?
' What's to be done ?' — " At all events 'twere best
" To slide away, the casket in thy breast,
" Ere any one remarks it — ride full trot,
" Straight to the Lateran, that holy spot,
" Where, chance, ere this, the knight enjoys untroubled rest."

Thus to the 'squire his better genius spake :
And when maturely pondering o'er and o'er,
His cautious brain no better counsel bore,
He wisely thinks it best the hint to take.
Soon as resolv'd, his fiery spirit burns,
To the good town his shoulder blade he turns ;
And spurring to rejoin at Rome the knight,
Crosses the Alps, nor rests his breathless flight,
Till his impatient eye the wish'd-for goal discerns.

And now with keen solicitude he tires
The faithful Swiss that guard the sacred door :
Searches each antichamber o'er and o'er,
And with unwearied tongue in vain enquires.
No news of Huon can the wretch obtain.
He flies from house to house, from fane to fane,
From hospital to hospital around.
Paints him from head to foot — no Huon found —
And then renews his search, but ah ! renews in vain.

For six long weeks poor Sherasmin remains
Chain'd by delusive hopes that never cease :
Nor rests himself, nor others leaves in peace,
Still searching o'er and o'er with fruitless pains.
But, since no waiting profits, in despair
The wretch begins the Basque's great oath to swear
And as he turn'd away his hopeless view,
Vows with loud voice, as sure as heaven is blue,
In pilgrim garb to seek lov'd Segewin's princely heir.

His money spent, his misery unconsol'd,
Shall he one jewel from the casket take,
Which for the fairy king, the donor's sake,
Is worth, in Huon's view, an hundred fold ?
No — he would flay for bread his barter'd hide,
Ere purchase banquets, by such means supplied.
From pilgrim poor none gold or silver seek,
He, with a muscle-shell, and blessing meek,
Pays half the world, and finds a friend on every side.

So, to and fro for two whole years and more,
The faithful Sherasmin in pilgrim vest
Begs through the world, nor yields to transient rest,
Still bound from port to port, from shore to shore-
Yet with vain labour searches here and there
For valiant Huon, and Amanda fair !
At last, as lucky stars his footsteps guide,
Or secret instinct that new hope supply'd,
At Tunis he arrives half dead with toil and care.

And at the gard'ner's door the old man laid,
His head reposes on a bank of stone,
Poor wretch ! with famine and fatigue o'erdone,
To rest awhile in the refreshing shade :
A female slave with bread and wine appears,
And to his lip the strengthening chalice rears :
But when they view each other face to face,
With fear and mingled joy the friends embrace,
And on each other's neck shed sadly-pleasing tears.

" Ah ! art thou Fatma ? " on her tearful cheek,
" Is't possible?" the joyful pilgrim cries —
" No, not in dreams such hope e'er blest my eyes —
" Is't possible ? — Unfold this mystery — speak !
" Meet we at Tunis ? On this distant land ?
" What storm has blown thee to this heathen strand ?
" Where are they — Huon and Amanda, where?" —
' Ah! Shcrasmin !' sobs Fatma, in despair,
" They are ! — wretch ! — ask me not" — and weeps, and wrings her hand.

" What say'st thou?— God forbid— say, Fatma, say
" What are they? — speak!" — Ah! Sherasmin! they are'—
Her faltering lip scarce stammer'd out, ' they are,'
When heart-felt anguish took her speech away —
" O Heaven !" cries Sherasmin, and like a child
Sobs upon Fatma's neck, with misery wild —
" While on their cheek fair youth and beauty bloom'd !
" Too hard ! — alas ! I little good presum'd ! —
" Too hard the proof for blood by Adam's stain defil'd !"

Soon as the tender soul recovers breath,
She, piece by piece, continues to relate
From first to last the tale of bitter fate ;
All that had happened in that night of death,
When ocean roar'd, and howl'd th' infuriate gale,
While Rezia seen by gleams of lightning pale,
Amid the crew that round her Huon prest,
Impetuous rush'd, and clasping breast to breast,
Plung'd mid the stormy waves — oh ! wondrous woful tale!

And thus a livelong hour the mourners staid
To feast their souls with never-sated wo ;
And both extol with friendship's ardent glow,
The fairest, bravest pair God ever made
This nether world to perfect and adorn —
" An angel like to her" (she cries forlorn)
" This mournful eye shall ne'er behold again !" —
' Nor I,' he answers, in congenial strain,
' A prince, like Segewin's son — brave man ! for glory born !'

And when he thrice had heard repeated o'er
The melancholy tale, a feeble light
Of distant hope gleams cheerful on his sight —
Yet, yet they may be sav'd ! — be blest once more'—
And, as he ponders o'er and o'er again,
Still less the dire suspicion racks his brain,
That the kind fairy will desert his friends :
He, who so oft had sav'd, some plan intends :
His thoughts, to man unknown, a wise design ordain.

And by that spark of hope, which feebly glows
Like rays that from afar at midnight dart,
He vows from Fatma never to depart,
But pair'd with her by sympathetic woes,
Await th' unravelling of the web of fate,
At Tunis, be the issue soon or late.
Thus fixt, his staff and mantle, by her aid,
He barters for a jacket, and a spade,
And in the garden works each day in hireling state.

While tender Fatma, and the faithful 'squire
With tears the blooming gardens daily tend,
Like the lov'd grave of a departed friend,
Spring thrice renews her gay and green attire,
Yet sad to Huon's eyes, that still behold,
Year after year in dull inaction roll'd,
In this lone isle, this peaceful painful scene :
He cannot from the world his spirit wean,
Where gleaming from afar fame waves her banner bold.

And Huonet, on whom so sweet imprest,
Amanda's charms, and Huon's strength unite,
The fairest infant, most enchanting sight,
That ever hung at a celestial breast,
For other labours born, than forth to fare
With sylvan axe, embitters Huon's care:
And thou, O Rezia ! oft thy angel nigh
At midnight sees thee raise thy sleepless eye,
And hears thee stilly breathe a meek yet mournful pray'r.

Yes, ye both feel it, in youth's golden year
That nature bids ye not your bliss divide :
Ye feel that nobler ends should action guide :
Here lost, ye miss the heroick high career
"Where boundless virtue spreads her wide control.
In vain the hidden tears that stilly roll
Are shed at distance from the hermit's gaze,
Experience to his heart the truth betrays :
The smile deceives him not, he reads their inmost soul.

" His mind, heav'n-raised, that earth's vain grandeur scorns,
Deigns for their sake the worldly scenes retrace,
Pomp, pleasures, honours, that their birth-right grace,
And owns they lose what envy'd life adorns :
So lives he in their life, their feelings feels,
Nor blames the natural tear that each conceals,
In awe of him — nor blames their mutual love :
But while stern fates with bitter trials prove,
Consoles their present wo, and future bliss reveals.

Once, when their labour o'er, at close of day,
All three, (Amanda with her lovely child,)
To view where rob'd in cloudless glory smil'd
Th' expanse of heaven, along whose spangled way
Millions of brilliant orbs the night array'd,
Sat on the brow that crown'd the star-light glade :
While still from world to world with awe-struck mind
Absorb'd in silent wonder unconfin'd,
They look'd mute thanks to Him who all from nothing made :

At that still hour, the venerable man
With voice that breath'd religious awe serene,
Spoke of this earthly life, fleet shadowy scene,
And mark'd that state where real life began,
When o'er the world the soaring spirit flies :
It seem'd as if a breath from opening skies
Soft drew him upward to his heavenly goal :
From Rezia's eye the tear in silence stole :
Half vanish'd from her sight he seems in air to rise.

" Yes," he continues, " now from yonder shore,
" Lo ! now, celestial hands to me extend !
" Soon will this dream of swift existence end :
" I soon shall rest, all earthly trials o'er.
" Your course begins — and joy and wo await,
" (Joys that new brace the soul for adverse fate,)
" As onward glides life's changeful fleet career—
" Swift as a dream their traces disappear :
" And nought of earthly scenes attend your future state.

" Nought but the treasure stor'd within your heart
" Of truth and charity, and inward joys,
" And that remembrance which no time destroys,
" That weal or wo ne'er drew you once apart
" From paths where duty leads, unerring guide !" —
Thus spoke the sire — their souls alone replied :
And when at last they went to late repose,
More warm he prest them, and at parting, rose,
Swift as he turn'd away, the tear he strove to hide.

That very night, while dark presages swell
Her breast with woes to come, the fairy queen
Lifts her sad eye to heaven's foreboding scene.
From her pale cheek the withering roses fell,
While bath'd in tears she stood, and saw, and read.
She calls her elves with mournful accent dread,
To view what ills malignant fates design,
And how in aspect dire the stars combine,
That o'er Amanda's brow their baleful influence shed.

Then quickly flying to the fragrant bed,
Where veil'd beneath the almond's flowery spray,
The caliph's daughter with her infant lay,
Rous'd by dire dreams from boding terrour bred,
With rosy branch Titania softly swept
Her half-shut eyes, that frequent woke and wept :
And while she sunk at once in peaceful rest,
And calm oblivion still'd her beating breast,
Stole the unconscious boy, who sweetly smiling slept,

Then back she hastens with the beauteous prey,
And to her graces speaks — " Ye now behold
" That baleful planet o'er Amanda roll'd ;
" Haste ! to my fav'rite bow'r this babe convey :
" There tend him as my new-born only son:
" So may this child the threaten'd danger shun."
Then from the roses that her chaplet grace,
Gives a fresh bud to each attendant grace—
" Oh haste ! the twilight dawns — prevent the rising sun !

" Observe my will, and every day and hour
" Look at your blooming buds, and when ye view
" Their roseate splendour chang'd to lily hue,
" O then ! once more love's reconciling pow'r
" New-binds me to my lord — then speed your flight,
" Greet with Amanda's son our nuptial rite —
" Amanda's misery vanishes with mine." —
Th' obedient nymphs their graceful necks incline,
And on a fleecy cloud are wafted from her sight.

Scarce through the roseate heaven Aurora peeps,
Than with foreboding sad, and strange alarms,
Amanda hastens to her Huon's arms,
Who far from her, and from Alphonso sleeps:
In dread impatience hurrying from her grot,
The hapless mother in her haste forgot
Round her lov'd boy to clasp her guardian arms,
And print a kiss on his unfolding charms ;
Secure, she thinks, he sleeps, and angels guard the spot.

She comes — pale Huon meets her — neither speak,
Both inly boding with the same intent
Hiding the fears that spoke some dread event,
The hermit's hallow'd cell in silence seek — -
How throbb'd their heart with unaccustom'd fear,
Mute as they come his noiseless cavern near !
Breathless he lies, his hands across his heart,
A deadly paleness marks each mortal part,
Yet, on each feature peace and heav'n-seal'd hope appear.

" Hush ! he but sleeps," Amanda softly says,
And on his hand her hand so lightly prest,
As if she fear'd to interrupt his rest:
But when his clay-cold flesh no life displays,
And still his heart, and sunk his bloodless veins,
On his pale corse with agonizing pains
At once she sinks — the tears that bathe his cheek,
Her soul's unutterable anguish speak —
" Ah ! father ! thou art gone ! no hope on earth remains !"

Then up she starts, and sinks on Huon's breast :
Both on their knees before the mortal shrine
That held so long the purest soul divine,
By awful silence solemn wo exprest ;
And satiate sad the bitter sweet desire
To weep ; and oft resolving to retire,
Press the last debt of love upon his hand ;
Yet o'er his form, as fixt by magick, stand,
And thrill with pangs unknown, and woes that never tire.

It seems, that in his features they behold
The twilight dawn of new existence beam,
And that from heaven a bright reflected gleam
Round his pale brow its living lustre roll'd ;
Rays of supernal light already shine
That change the mortal substance to divine,
And a scarce visible celestial smile
Play'd hovering o'er his lips, that seem'd the while
In a last blessing clos'd, his spirit to resign.

" Feel'st thou not too," says Huon, as entranc'd
He upward looks, " as if a ray of light
" Fell on thy soul from yon celestial height ?
" So never did I feel frail nature rais'd :
" So never did this transitory state,
" Where virtue stands the shock of ruthless fate,
" Seem like a gloomy pass to yonder skies :
" So never did I feel my courage rise
" To soar to highest deeds on heavenly wings elate.

" I never felt such strength, such keen desire,
" Each sacrifice to make, each proof sustain,
" And without murmur combat wo and pain :
" O bride ! forewarn'd by our celestial sire,
" Though proof on proof our earthly course infest,
" They but advance the hour of heav'nly rest :
" New hope, new confidence shall brace our heart."—
He speaks, and as at last they, loth, depart,
Fate's unexpected blow assails his fervent breast.

For, as they quit the cell, and hand in hand,
Advancing, at the threshold lift their eyes,
Heavens ! what a scene of horrour and surprise !
Where are they exil'd, to what stranger land ?
Vanish'd ! entirely vanish'd grove and field ;
All that their lov'd elysium wont to yield.
Once more they dare to steal a glance around :
Flow void ! they stand like statues on the ground :
No trace, where'er they turn, the blissful spot reveal'd !

They hover o'er the brink of an abyss,
Surrounded, wheresoe'er they turn their sight,
With dreary mountains, height o'erhanging height :
How dire the contrast of remember'd bliss!
No green blade waves where late the garden bloom'd,
No leaf where Spring embowering groves illumin'd :
Where now the nightingale's melodious wood ?
Rude cliffs alone, and crags in ruins stood,
Dark, desert, and deform'd, mid rocks on rocks entomb'd.

To what new trial of unheard-of grief,
'Does this dire scene of desolation lead ?
" Ah!" they exclaim, and bitter tears proceed,
While sad they seek in vain from heaven relief —
" Spirit ! who now enjoy'st eternal rest,
" Spring, for thy sake, the rocks in verdure drest :
" The land of Eden bloom'd for thee alone :
" To us, on thy account, the vision shown —
" Now fate pursues us here, by thee no longer blest !"

" Assist me, Heav'n ! to stand the shock of fate,"
Amanda cries, and stills her heaving breast —
Alas ! poor wretch ! by misery opprest,
Bow'd as thou art beneath this bitter weight,
Affliction's keenest pangs are yet unknown ! —
Swift to her child she wings her way alone,
So lately left, she thinks, in sweet repose :
Resolv'd with him to bear severest woes :
Her infant in her arms, to bear without a groan.

She speeds where late he slumber'd by her side ;
And as with lightning pierc'd, in wild dismay
Reels back — the bed is void — the child away !
" How rush'd he forth ? ah ! where without a guide ?
" Ah ! her alone, his vagrant footstep sought :
" Yet far from her, perhaps, in peril brought!
" Ah ! no — the sportive boy their dwelling near,
(So thinks she floating wild 'twixt hope and fear)
" Now in the garden strays — sweet momentary thought ! "

The garden ! — 'tis a rocky ruin wild —
She rushes out — with frantick misery raves,.
Calls him by name — explores the hollow caves,
And seeks in every cleft her absent child.
Rous'd by her echoing shrieks the father flies,
And speaks that hope his tortur'd heart denies —
" Amid these winding rocks the infant strays,
" In heav'n-watch'd innocence securely plays ;
" Soon will he sportive bound before thy gladden'd eyes."

Two livelong hours, alas ! they search in vain :
Loud calling on his name, explore around,
Now sink beneath th' o'erhanging cliff profound,
Now up th' aerial summit slowly strain :
Through every bush and yawning fracture creep,
And downward dive 'mid gloomy caverns deep,
To find at least the infant's peaceful grave.
Alas ! no trace — alone wild echos rave,
Resounding to their groans that ring from steep to steep.

Most strange, they think it, that a little child
Should lose himself in this rude desert ground,
Where never beast of prey e'er prowl'd around,
Or savage man, than beast of prey more wild.
The thought, that heightens wo, some solace breeds —
From misery's gloomy depth faint hope proceeds —
No — he but wanders mid these wilds unknown,
Or tir'd with roaming slumbers on a stone,
While Heaven with angel dreams his infant fancy feeds.

And every rocky ridge is search'd anew,
And every crevice, every craggy side,
And bush and brake, that chance the boy may hide,
Is o'er and o'er explor'd with falcon view.
The sorrows of their soul their thoughts confuse,
"While hope, howe'er improbable, renews
Their toilsome search along the distant bay :
There, mid high sands and reeds, the wanderers stray.
And each, where fancy leads, a separate way pursues.

Wrapt in deep wo as roams the lonely bride,
At once unusual sounds alarm her ear :
Doubtful she seems a human voice to hear ;
But, as the murmurs soon as heard subside,
While from a rock that overshadowing hung
Her craggy path the mountain wilds among,
A tumbling torrent shakes its bed profound :
Surely, she thinks, wild echo form'd the sound,
Which seem'd to fancy's ear from human voices sprung,

Amanda's soul no hov'ring danger fear'd,
Maternal agonies her bosom fill :
When as she winds around a rocky hill,
That near the water-fall its summit rear'd,
Alarm'd, she views at once a boist'rous band
Of swarthy sailors rushing o'er the land,
Intent, it seems, to intercept her way ;
And in a little cove their galley lay,
Behind a reef of rocks, at anchor on the strand.

They came to water at this desert place,
And to their boat the liquid burthen bore,
When, on a sudden, wandering on the shore,
They view with restless and disorder'd pace
A female figure of angelick mien,
More beauteous far than eye had ever seen :
At first they stood in motionless surprise,
On this bleak coast, which every pilot flies,
To see a goddess move like love's enchanting queen.

Oft beauty makes the sternest spirit mild,
And tigers lose their fierceness at her feet :
Yet in their breasts no throbs of pity beat.
Their souls more fierce than prowling monster wild,
Rate female beauty by one test alone,
Whether in flesh and blood, or sculptur'd stone,
Like any bale of goods at market price —
" This one (the captain says) will well suffice,
"Ten thousand ducats, lads! in this one prize our own!

" Haste, lads! and seize your prey! a face so fair
" Is worth, at Tunis, many a precious bale.
" When nightingales like this his ear regale,
" Nor thanks nor money will the sultan spare.
" No captive, whom his harem nets enclose,
" Like this wild flutterer half such beauty shows.
" Almansaris, though form'd to give delight,
" Will stand unnotic'd in Almansor's sight—
" Haste, lads ! and seize the prize that fav'ring chance bestows."

While thus th' unfeeling wretch his crew addrest,
Amanda, for an instant, musing stands —
A scene so strange some prompt resolve demands,
If they are hostile, flight is vain at best :
Impossible to 'scape the foe so near —
But pray'r and confidence may win their ear—
" Yes, face to face, I speak to them as friends,
" As guardians hail, whom Heaven in pity sends ;
" Perchance to us kind fates the welcome vessel steer."

Forward, with innocence that knew no fear,
Peace in her look serene, and steady pace,
She steps an angel to the corsair race.
But vain her winning pray'r to pirate ear :
Those moving tones which speak to every heart,
No tender touch to iron souls impart :
The pirate nods, his crew the sign obey ;
At once they circle, seize, and drag their prey :
Down to the galley drag, for Tunis' crowded mart.

Rous'd by her shrieks, and agonizing groans
That loudly echo'd from each mountain cave,
Down from the wood fierce Huon flies to save,
Mad vengeance roaring in his lion tones ;
And when no more the copse that fring'd the bay
Conceal'd the scenes, while darting on their way,
He grasps a knotty club that near him lies,
And like a thunderbolt that rends the skies
Rushes amid the crew that drag their struggling prey.

To see with bleeding arms his lovely bride
Struggle in vain before his tortur'd sight,
Gives tenfold strength — he maddens in the fight —
Death flies, where'er he strikes, from side to side-
As bursts from Summer cloud the storm of hail,
His blows their shoulders and their backs assail:
To quell the ravishers no mortal came :
His eye streams lightning, and his nostrils flame:
Seven Moors already sink beneath his murderous flail!

Astonishment and shame, and desperate rage,
Now from their grasp to lose their ravish'd prey,
By one, who dares a host, thus forc'd away,
Spur them at once with Huon to engage.
Long as our knight can wheel his arm around,
He, to the throng is still superiour found :
But when the foe's united strength prevails,
When falls his oaken club, resistance fails,
O'erpower'd the maniack raves, and madly bites the ground !

With death-like shriek Amanda breathless falls,
She thinks her Huon murdered in her sight —
These drag her to the ship with grim delight :
The rest, while demon vengeance wildly calls,
Round Huon rave, and foam with savage ire ;
" Death ! instant death !" all roar with mad desire :
" Too mild for him the bloodiest death," they cry —
" No, let him live, in lingering pangs to die,
" And, tortur'd day by day, and inch by inch expire !"

Deep in the wood, at distance from the shore,
They drag their victim, that his loudest word
Pour'd on the desert air may pass unheard.
Then bind the wretch, and fasten o'er and o'er
Arm, leg, and neck, and shoulders, to a tree.
To heaven he looks in speechless agony,
O'ercome by wo's unutterable weight.
Thus he — the while with jocund shout elate,
The crew bear off their prey, and bound along the sea.