Ben Backstay

Ben Backstay lov'd the gentle Anna: Constant as purity was she; Her honey words, like succ'ring manna Cheer'd him each voyage he made to sea. One fatal morning saw them parting: While each the other's sorrow dried, They, by the tear that then was starting, Vow'd to be constant till they died. At distance from his Anna's beauty, While howling winds the sky deform, Ben sighs, and well performs his duty, And braves for love the frightful storm: Alas! in vain - the vessel batter'd, On a rock splitting, open'd wide, While lacerated, torn, and shatter'd, Ben thought of Anna, sigh'd and died. The semblance of each charming feature, That Ben had worn around his neck, Where art stood substitute for nature, A tar, his friend, sav'd from the wreck. In fervent hope, while Anna, burning, Blush'd as she wish'd to be a bride, The portrait came - joy turn'd to mourning She saw, grew pale, sunk down, and died.