Bursts in white torrents o'er the echoing main:
The fiery bolts uninterrupted roll
From sky to sky, and shake the stedfast pole:
Red volleying o'er the heavens with curving beam
The fitful lightnings dart a quivering gleam,
And, glancing thro' the raven plumes of night,
Shed o'er the deep a pale sepulchral light.

Swift to the Power unknown his eyes he rear'd--
No sign of comfort in the Power appear'd:
Silent he stood--when lo! another blast
Rends the strong sail, and shakes the tottering mast!
Now, by the mounting billows upward swung,
Trembling amid the darksome sky they hung;
Now seem'd to touch the fountains of the deep,
Where in eternal rest the waters sleep.
And now beneath a milder tempest's sway
Onward the rapid vessel bounds away;
When, lo! again--as if with thundering fall
Descended to the deep heaven's loosen'd wall,
Yells the fierce storm: beneath the furious shock,
Torn from its roots, the long-resisting rock
Falls prone; the sands, driven by the whirling sweep,
Boil up, and darken the discolour'd deep.

Still o'er the stormy waste they labour on,
Thro' bowling deserts and thro' paths unknown--
A long, long way! the lightnings flame around,
And winds and billows mix their mournful sound.
Still on they fare--'till thro' the ambient night