[Scarce a breeze on the lake, with four oars to our boat;] SCarce a breeze on the lake, with four oars to our boat; The landscape! no pencil could paint. I thought of her fate, the midst of this scene, When a boar put us all in a fright. Confusion and terror, my heart beat my breast, Neither castle nor bower could I see; The beautiful! Queen who once made her escape, Was scarcely so frighted as me. The house — and the trees — the town and the spire; The hills — and the cottages round; The water — the wind — and the flight of the birds; Did only my senses confound. No thought was distinct — or but lost in myself; I pray'd — and our fate did deplore; When Serff that good saint — from his peaceful retreat, Came quickly, and brought us to shore.