But when anon outswelling by its side,

A woman’s robe he spied,

Oh then Ladurlad started,

As one, who in his grave

Had heard an angel’s call.

Yea, Marriataly, then hast deign’d to save!

Yea, Goddess! it is she,

To thy dear image clinging senselessly,

And thus in happy hour

Upborne amid the wave

By that preserving power.