Classic Poem

The ready boat the tardy youth upbraids,
And frequent summons from the rowing maids:
— I come, — he cries; — my Ajutt lov'd, adieu —
— Forget me not, my fair — be just — be true? —
The words, by grief, half frozen on his tongue,
He sigh'd — she wept — and on his bosom hung;
Then vow'd unchanging love, and fervent pray'd
Each Pow'r to guard him for his faithful maid;
And that no Syren mermaid of the deep,
Might snatch her love, and leave her heart to weep:
With her's, his own he joins, and prays each Pow'r
To guard his maid, and haste their nuptial hour;
Then onward moves — now looks a last adieu,
While tender eloquence his cheeks bedew:
Thrice he attempts his floating bark to leave,
And swim to Ajutt o'er the dashing wave;
Like some fair image, Ajutt lifeless stands,
Surveys his boat, and marks the printed sands;
'Till waves and rocks her prospect intercept,
Her hutt then sought, and there in private wept.