3
“Slow, ever slower, banisht from our eyne, vanisht our native hills astern remaining: Remained dear Tagus, and the breezy line of Cintran peaks, long, long, our gaze detaining: Remainèd eke in that dear country mine our hearts with pangs of mem’ory ever paining: Till, when all veilèd sank in darkling air, naught but the welkin and the wave was there.