O yet in clouds, thou genial source of light,
Conceal thy radiant glories from our sight!
Go, with thy smile adorn the happy plain,

And gild the scenes where health and pleasure reign; But let not here, in scorn, thy wanton beam

Insult the dreadful grandeur of my theme!

While shoreward now the bounding vessel flies,
Full in her van St. George's cliffs arise;
High o'er the rest a pointed crag is seen,
That hung projecting o'er a mossy green;
Nearer and nearer now the danger grows,
And all their skill relentless fates oppose;
For while more eastward they direct the prow,
Enormous waves the quivering deck o'erflow:
While, as she wheels, unable to subdue
Her sallies, still they dread her broaching-to:
Alarming thought! for now no more a-lee
Her riven side could bear th' invading sea;
And if the following surge she scuds before,
Headlong she runs upon the dreadful shore;
A shore where shelves and hidden rocks abound,
Where death in secret ambush lurks around.
Far less dismay'd, Anchises' wand'ring son
Was seen the straits of Sicily to shun,
When Palinurus, from the helm, descry'd
The rocks of Scylla on his eastern side;

While in the west, with hideous yawn disclosed,
His onward path Charybdis' gulf opposed:
The double danger, as by turns he view'd,
His wheeling bark her arduous track pursu❜d.
Thus, while to right and left destruction lies,
Between th' extremes the daring vessel flies;
With boundless involution, bursting o'er
The marble cliffs, loud dashing surges roar;
Hoarse thro' each winding creek the tempest raves,
And hollow rocks repeat the groan of waves.
Destruction round th' insatiate coast prepares,
To crush the trembling ship, unnumber'd snares:
But haply now she 'scapes the fatal strand,
Tho' scarce ten fathoms distant from the land.
Swift as the weapon issuing from the bow,
She cleaves the burning waters with her prow;
And forward leaping, with tumultuous haste,
As on the tempest's wing, the isle she past.

With longing eyes, and agony of mind,
The sailors view the refuge left behind;
Happy to bribe, with India's richest ore,
A safe accession to that barren shore!
When in the dark Peruvian mine confin'd,
Lost to the cheerful commerce of mankind,
The groaning captive wastes his life away,
For ever exil'd from the realms of day,

Not equal pangs his bosom agonize,
When far above the sacred light he eyes!
While, all forlorn, the victim pines in vain
For scenes he never shall possess again.

But now Athenian mountains they descry, And o'er the surge Colonna frowns on high; Beside the cape's projecting verge is placed A range of columns, long by time defaced; First planted by devotion, to sustain,

In elder times, Tritonia's sacred fane.

And now, while wing'd with ruin from on high,
Thro' the rent cloud the ragged lightnings fly,
A flash, quick glancing on the nerves of light,
Struck the pale helmsman with eternal night!
Rodmond, who heard a piteous groan behind,
Touch'd with compassion, gaz'd upon the blind;
And, while around his sad companions crowd,
He guides th' unhappy victim to the shroud:
Hie thee aloft, my gallant friend! he cries;
Thy only succour on the mast relies!

The helm bereft of half its vital force,

Now scarce subdued the wild unbridled course.
Quick to th' abandon'd wheel Arion came,
The ship's tempestuous sallies to reclaim:
Amazed he saw her, o'er the sounding foam
Upborne, to right and left distracted roam.

So gaz'd young Phæton, with pale dismay,
When mounted on the flaming car of day,
With rash and impious hand the stripling tried
Th' immortal coursers of the sun to guide.

The vessel, while the dread event draws nigh, Seems more impatient o'er the waves to fly : Fate spurs her on !-Thus, issuing from afar, Advances to the sun some blazing star; And, as it feels attraction's kindling force, Springs onward with accelerated course.

With mournful look the seamen ey'd the strand, Where Death's inexorable jaws expand:

Swift from their minds elaps'd all dangers past,
As, dumb with terror, they beheld the last.
Now on the trembling shrouds, before, behind,
In mute suspense they mount into the wind.
The Genius of the deep, on rapid wing,
The black eventful moment seem'd to bring;
The fatal Sisters on the surge before,
Yok'd their infernal horses to the prore.

The steersman now receiv'd their last command,
To wheel the vessel sidelong to the strand.
Twelve sailors, on the foremast who depend,
High on the platform of the top ascend:

Fatal retreat! for, while the plunging prow
Immerges headlong in the wave below,

Down-prest by wat'ry weight, the bowsprit bends,
And from above the stem deep-crashing rends:
Beneath her beak the floating ruins lie;

The foremast totters, unsustain'd on high;
And now the ship, forelifted by the sea,
Hurls the tall fabric backward o'er her lee ;
While, in the general wreck, the faithful stay
Drags the main-topmast from its post away:
Flung from the mast, the seamen strive in vain,
Thro' hostile floods, their vessel to regain;
The waves they buffet, till bereft of strength,
O'erpower'd, they yield to cruel fate at length:
The hostile waters close around their head;
They sink! for ever number'd with the dead!

Those who remain, their fearful doom await,
Nor longer mourn their lost companions' fate :
The heart that bleeds with sorrow all its own,
Forgets the pangs of friendship to bemoan.
Albert, and Rodmond, and Palemon here,
With young Arion, on the mast appear;
E'en they, amid th' unspeakable distress,
In every look distracting thoughts confess,