The ocean still enraged in mountains white,
Would like a drunkard reel in sable night,
While she her paddles plies against the wave,
Yet all in vain the sweeping tide to brave:
Driven from her course afar by the loud wind,
Then back again by breezes from behind;
Headlong she falls into the fretful surge,
While weak and broken does she now emerge.
The inmates are now filled with fear,
Destruction seeming so near;
The vessel rent in awful chasms,
Waxing weaker, weaker she seems.
* * * * *
Anon is heard great commotion,
Roaring for spoil is the lion;
The vessel's own final struggles
Are fierce, while the crew trembles.
The hurricane increasing
Over the grim sea is driving,
Drowning loud moans, burying all
In its passage dismal.
How hard their fate, O how they wept
In that sad hour of miseries heap'd;
Some sighed, others prayed fervently,
Others mad, or in despair did cry.
Affrighted they ran to and fro,
To flee from certain death and woe;
While _he_, with visage grim and dark,
Would still surround the doomed bark.
Deep night now veiled the firmament,
While sombre clouds thicker were sent
To hide each star, the ocean's rage
No cries of grief could even assuage.
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