Ah, sweet suspense! betwixt the mingled cares
Of friendship, love, and gratitude, so mix'd,
That ev'n the soul may cheat herself. — Down, down,
Intruding Memory! bid thy struggles cease,
At this soft scene of innate war. What sounds
Break on her ear? She, starting, whispers "Luco."
Be still, fond maid; list to the tardy step
Of leaden-footed woe. A father comes,
But not to seek his son, who from the deck
Had breath'd a last adieu: no, he shuts out
The soft, fallacious gleam of hope, and turns
Within upon the mind: horrid and dark
Are his wild, unenlighten'd pow'rs: no ray
Of  philosophy to calm his soul,
But all the anarchy of wounded nature.