 | The Uninhabited Island |  |
SCENE V.
Henriques, Sylvia apart.Syl.
To their discourse
In vain I've listen'd.
Hen.
Hapless is the fortune
Of poor Gernando; scarce his hand receives
His lovely bride, when call'd to distant climes
He trusts himself and all he prizes most,
Amidst the faithless deep; then landing here
To seek refreshment for his tender partner
O'er-spent and wearied by the tossing surge,
While sleep seals up her sense, by ruffian force
Is hurried hence to distant lands unknown,
Where many years he sighs a wretched captive,
And hears no tidings of the fair he mourns.
Syl.
At length he turns—how pleasing is his mien!
401
Compassion pleads for him in every breast,
And gratitude in mine. To him I owe
Freedom, the first the noblest gift of Heaven.
'Twere cruelty in others not to mourn
His fate, in me 'twere base ingratitude.
The heart that feels not for another's woe,
Is shunn'd by all; but most the ungrateful mind
Is justly held in universal horror.
The tender tree, though not indu'd
With gentle sense of human woes,
Is grateful to the parent flood
From which its genial moisture flows.
With gentle sense of human woes,
Is grateful to the parent flood
From which its genial moisture flows.
For this he yields a kind return,
And thick in verdant leaves array'd,
When scorching beams of Phœbus burn,
Defends the stream with friendly shade.
And thick in verdant leaves array'd,
When scorching beams of Phœbus burn,
Defends the stream with friendly shade.
[Exit.
| The Uninhabited Island | |