The queen recover’d, rears her humid eyes, And first her husband on the poop espies, Shaking his hand at distance on the main; She took the sign, and shook her hand again: Still as the ground recedes, contracts her view With sharpen’d sight, till she no longer knew The much-loved face; that comfort lost supplies With less, and with the galley feeds her eyes; The galley borne from view by rising gales, She follow’d with her sight the flying sails; When ev’n the flying sails were seen no more, Forsaken of all sight she left the shore.

Then on her bridal bed her body throws And sought in sleep her wearied eyes to close; Her husband’s pillow, and the widow’d part Which once he press’d, renew’d the former smart.