Canto XVII

Thou comest, much wept for: such a breeze

      Compell'd thy canvas, and my prayer

      Was as the whisper of an air

To breathe thee over lonely seas.

For I in spirit saw thee move

      Thro' circles of the bounding sky;

      Week after week: the days go by:

Come quick, thou bringest all I love.

Henceforth, wherever thou may'st roam,

      My blessing, like a line of light,

      Is on the waters day and night,

And like a beacon guards thee home.

So may whatever tempest mars

      Mid-ocean, spare thee, sacred bark;

      And balmy drops in summer dark

Slide from the bosom of the stars.

So kind an office hath been done,

      Such precious relics brought by thee;

      The dust of him I shall not see

Till all my widow'd race be run.