"My God! my God! 'tis thee I thank!"
Exclaim'd the now exulting fair;
"I see him wafted to the bank,
His cradle form'd by heavenly care!"
She spoke, and all who heard her cry,
Now saw the babe divinely nurst;
The extatic sight from every eye,
Made tears of grateful transport burst.
Between her silvery arching wings,
The guardian bird had lodg'd the child;
And forward as her broad foot springs,
At every stroke the infant smil'd.
And with a heaven-implanted pride,
Superbly rowing now to land;
The brave bird has her charge denied
To all, but to the mother's hand.
Cecilia feeling now no pains,
Leans o'er the boat's advancing end;
And aided by her lord reclaims,
The present of her feather'd friend.
Now with delight the rescued boy,
To her maternal bosom springs:
The conscious Swan partakes their joy,
And claps her proud triumphant wings.
Cecilia beads to weep and pray,
She weeps with joy, no longer wan;
And still on this returning day,
Blesses the heaven-directed Swan!
THE HERMIT'S DOG.
BALLAD THE ELEVENTH.
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