“Poor wretch, on stormy seas to lose thy life: Unhappy thou, but more thy widow’d wife!” At this she paused, for now the flowing tide Had brought the body nearer to the side. The more she looks, the more her fears increase At nearer sight, and she’s herself the less. Now driven ashore, and at her feet it lies, She knows too much in knowing whom she sees, Her husband’s corpse; at this she loudly shrieks, “ ’Tis he! ’tis he!” she cries, and tears her cheeks, Her hair, and vest; and stooping to the sands, About his neck she cast her trembling hands.