ODE
on
a
STORM
.
WITH
gallant
pomp
,
and
beauteous
pride
The
floating
pile
in
harbour
rode
,
Proud
of
her
freight
,
the
swelling
tide
Reluctant
left
the
vessel's
side
,
And
rais'd
it
as
she
flow'd
.
The
waves
with
Eastern
breezes
curl'd
,
Had
silver'd
half
the
liquid
plain
;
The
anchors
weigh'd
,
the
sails
unfurl'd
,
Serenely
mov'd
the
wooden
world
,
And
stretch'd
along
the
main
.
The
scaly
natives
of
the
deep
Press
to
admire
the
vast
machine
,
In
sporting
gambols
round
it
leap
,
Or
swimming
low
,
due
distance
keep
,
In
homage
to
their
queen
.
Thus
,
as
life
glides
in
gentle
gale
Pretended
friendship
waits
on
pow'r
,
But
early
quits
the
borrow'd
veil
When
adverse
Fortune
shifts
the
sail
,
And
hastens
to
devour
.
In
vain
we
fly
approaching
ill
,
Danger
can
multiply
its
form
;
Expos'd
we
fly
like
Jonas
still
,
And
heaven
,
when
'tis
heaven's
will
,
O'ertakes
us
in
a
storm
.
The
distant
surges
foamy
white
Foretel
the
furious
blast
;
Dreadful
,
tho'
distant
was
the
sight
,
Confed'rate
winds
and
waves
unite
,
And
menace
ev'ry
mast
.
Winds
whistling
thro'
the
shrouds
,
proclaim
A
fatal
harvest
on
the
deck
,
Quick
in
pursuit
as
active
flame
,
Too
soon
the
rolling
ruin
came
,
And
ratify'd
the
wreck
.
Thus
,
Adam
smil'd
with
new-born
grace
,
Life's
flame
inspir'd
by
heav'nly
breath
;
Thus
the
same
breath
sweeps
off
his
race
,
Disorders
Nature's
beauteous
face
,
And
spreads
disease
and
death
.
Stripp'd
of
her
pride
the
vessel
rolls
,
And
as
by
sympathy
she
knew
The
secret
anguish
of
our
souls
,
With
inward
deeper
groans
condoles
The
danger
of
her
crew
.
Now
what
avails
it
to
be
brave
,
On
liquid
precipices
hung
?
Suspended
on
a
breaking
wave
,
Beneath
us
yawn'd
a
sea-green
grave
,
And
silenc'd
ev'ry
tongue
.
The
faithless
flood
forsook
her
keel
,
And
downward
launch'd
the
lab'ring
hull
,
Stunn'd
she
forgot
awhile
to
reel
,
And
felt
almost
,
or
seem'd
to
feel
A
momentary
lull
.
Thus
in
the
jaws
of
death
we
lay
,
Nor
light
,
nor
comfort
found
us
there
,
Lost
in
the
gulph
and
floods
of
spray
No
sun
to
chear
us
,
nor
a
ray
Of
hope
,
but
all
despair
.
The
nearer
shore
,
the
more
despair
,
While
certain
ruin
waits
on
land
;
Should
we
pursue
our
wishes
there
,
Soon
we
recant
the
fatal
pray'r
,
And
strive
to
shun
the
strand
.
At
length
,
the
Being
whose
behest
Reduc'd
this
Chaos
into
form
,
His
goodness
and
his
pow'r
express'd
,
He
spoke
—
and
,
as
a
God
,
suppress'd
Our
troubles
,
and
the
storm
.