In whirlpool rage fall black upon the deep:
Now here, now there, they rush with stormy gale,
Scatter the rolling barks, and whelm in death
The mariner: an evil succourless
To men, who midst the ocean-ways their blast
Encounter. They again o’er all th’ expanse
Of flowery earth the pleasant works of man
Despoil, and fill the blacken’d air with cloud
Of eddying dust and hollow rustlings drear.
Now had the blessed Powers of Heaven fulfill’d