Sonnet LVI

IF, by his torturing, savage foes untraced,The breathless Captive gain some trackless glade,Yet hears the war-whoop howl along the waste,And dreads the reptile-monsters of the shade;The giant reeds that murmur round the flood,Seem to conceal some hideous form beneath;And every hollow blast that shakes the wood,Speaks to his trembling heart of woe and death.With horror fraught, and desolate dismay,On such a wanderer falls the starless night;But if, far streaming, a propitious rayLeads to some amicable fort his sight,He hails the beam benign that guides his way,As I, my Harriet, bless thy friendship's cheering light.