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A fair frail form : — 'twas Irza ! — to the shore 

 Each following wave the virgin nearer bore ; 

 And now the mountain surge o'erwhelmed the land, 

 Then flying left her on the wished-for strand. 



Soon hope and love of life her powers renew; 

 Swift tow'rds a cliff she speeds, which towers in view, 

 Nor waits the wave's return'; and now a^ain 

 Safe on the shore, and rescued from the main, 

 Prostrate she falls, and thanks the Sire of life, 

 Whose arm hath snatched her from the billowy strife. 

 That duty done, she rose, and gazed around : 

 Mossed are the rocks, and flowers bestrew the ground. 

 Not distant far, a group of fragrant trees 

 Bend with their golden fruit. The ocean-breeze 

 Shakes a gigantic palm, which o'er a cave 

 Its dark green foliage spreads, and wildly wave 

 Their blooming wreaths, all starred with midnight dews, 

 A thousand creeping plants of thousand hues. 

 Then flashed the dreadful truth on Irza's view ! 

 That cave — those trees — that giant palm she knew ! 

 Then from her lips for ever fled the smile : 

 — " Mother of God ! " she shrieked, " the Demon-Isle ! "— 



Long on a broken crag she knelt, and prayed, 

 And wearied every saint for strength and aid ; 

 Then speechless, heedless, senseless lay ; when, lo ! 

 Strange mutterings near her roused from torpid woe 

 Her soul to fresh alarms. Her head she reared, 

 And near her face an hideous face appeared ; 

 But straight 'twas gone ! — In trembling haste she rose, 

 And saw a ring of monstrous dwarfs inclose 

 Her rugged couch. Not Terriers' hand could paint 

 Forms more grotesque to scare the tempted saint, 

 Than here, as on they pressed in circling throng, 

 "With gnashing teeth seemed for her blood to long, 

 And grinned, and glared, and gloated ! Quicker grew 

 Her breath ! Death hemmed her round ! As yet, 'tis true, 



