140
JUAN BAUTISTA DE ARRIAZA.
When the despairing steersman turns
To prayer, instead of skill,
Seeing his bark the ocean spurns
The plaything of its will;
Amid the hoarse and troubled cries
The people raise around,
While shines the sword before their eyes
Of death, to strike them bound;
Ev'n then will I my love's farewell
In that dark hour renew,
And to the winds my sighs shall tell—
Sylvia! my life, Adieu!
