I thank thee, Heaven, that I have snapt in twain
The heavy yoke that on my neck I wore,
And that at length I can behold from shore,
Void of all fear, the black tempestuous main;
Can see, suspended by a slender chain,
The life of lovers who enchanted rest
In error, slumbering upon Beauty's breast,
To warning deaf, and blinded to their bane.
So shall I smile when mortals are undone,
Nor yet be found so cruel to my kind
As may appear,—I shall but smile as one
To health restored, whom sickness long confined,
Not to see others suffering, but to see
Myself from similar afflictions free.