Yes, thou shalt smile again!--Time always heals,
In Youth, the wounds of sorrow.--O! survey
Yon now subsided Deep, thro' night a prey
To warring winds, and to their furious peals
Surging tumultuous.--Yet, as in dismay,
The settling billows tremble--Morning steals
Grey on the rocks; and soon, to pour the day
From the streak'd east, the radiant Orb unveils,
In all his pride of light.--Thus shall the glow
Of beauty, health, and hope, by soft degrees
Spread o'er thy breast;--disperse these storms of woe:
Wake with soft Pleasure's sense, the wish to please,
Till from those eyes the wonted lustres flow,
Bright as the Sun, on calm, and crystal Seas.