Thus urg'd by mast'ring  and dol'rous
Into the current plung'd that infant crowd.
Right piteous was the spectacle, I ween,
Of tender striplings stain'd with tears and blood,
Perforce conflicting with the bitter flood;
And labouring to attain the distant shore,
Where holding forth the  of  stood
The  and ever-more
Sollicited their hearts with her inchanting lore.