The morn was calm, and ev’n till noon the strong
Unruffled flood moved quietly along;
In the dead calm the billows softly fell,
And mock’d the whistling sea-boy’s favourite spell:
So rests at noon the reaper, but to rise
With mightier force and twofold energies. 200
The deep, broad stream moved softly, all was hush’d,
When o’er the flood the breeze awakening brush’d;
A sullen sound was heard along the deep,
The stormy spirit rousing from his sleep;