VI.

She sate upon the galley’s prow, And seemed to mark the waves below; Nay, seemed, so fixed her look and eye, To count them as they glided by. She saw them not—’twas seeming all— Far other scene her thoughts recall— A sun-scorched desert, waste and bare, Nor waves nor breezes murmured there; There saw she, where some careless hand O’er a dead corpse had heaped the sand, To hide it till the jackals come, To tear it from the scanty tomb. See what a woful look was given, As she raised up her eyes to heaven!