She sate upon the galley's prow,
And seem'd to mark the waves below; 100
Nay, seem'd, so fix'd her look and eye,
To count them as they glided by.
She saw them not--'twas seeming all--
Far other scene her thoughts recall,--
A sun-scorch'd desert, waste and bare, 105
Nor waves, nor breezes, murmur'd there;
There saw she, where some careless hand
O'er a dead corpse had heap'd the sand,
To hide it till the jackals come,
To tear it from the scanty tomb.-- 110
See what a woful look was given,
As she raised up her eyes to heaven!