"Where is my child?" she faintly cries;
"Where is the child?" her lord rejoin'd:
Poor heart-struck Susan nought replies,
The child had vanished from her mind.

"My child! my child!" with terror's start
She shrieks, in accents wild and shrill;
And at her agony of heart,
The very tempest's self grew still!

"Say if you saw him sink!" she cried,
Wildly to Susan pale and wan:
When quick her roving eye descried,
The tall neck of her favourite Swan.

"My God! my God! 'tis thee I thank!"
Exclaim'd the now exulting fair;
"I see him wafted to the bank,
His cradle form'd by heavenly care!"

She spoke, and all who heard her cry,
Now saw the babe divinely nurst;
The extatic sight from every eye,
Made tears of grateful transport burst.

Between her silvery arching wings,
The guardian bird had lodg'd the child;
And forward as her broad foot springs,
At every stroke the infant smil'd.