"Gracious Heaven! in mercy spare him,
Shield him with thine arm of pow'r;
On thy wings, oh! Father, bear him
Through this dark and troubled hour.

"In yon convent then to-morrow
Will I give to thee my days;
Flee this world of grief and sorrow,
Endless sing thee hymns of praise.

"But if thou hast bid us sever,
Till we reach the heavenly shore,
I will steer my bark, where never,
Waves nor death shall part us more.

"We will roam the plains of ocean,
Tread the sands where rubies shine,
Drink from starry founts the potion
Mortals taste, and grow divine.

"But his vessel's sinking slowly,
And mine hour of death is near;
Yet I shrink not,--sweet and holy
Is the end that knows no fear."

Scarce the words had died, and the crimson tide,
Flow'd calm in her heaving breast,
When she flew to the wave, to share his grave,
And taste of his final rest.