Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And then I’ll rest, as, after much turmoil,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.”
Shakespeare, whether from watching the sea from the shore, or from sailing on it, was evidently at home in describing it.
The sea storm in “Pericles” (Act iii. Scene 1) is full of life and movement, made all the more terrible by the death of the queen on shipboard when the tempest is at its height. They are off the coast of Tharsus, and the ship is driving in upon it unmanageably, and will not answer to the helm:—
“1st Sailor.—Slack the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow and split thyself.
2d Sailor.—But sea room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not.
1st Sailor.—Sir, your queen must overboard; the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.”
The human situation and the conflict of the elements combine each to heighten to the utmost the terror and despair of the other. The conjunction is no doubt finely imagined. But when a modern poet writes: “No poetry of shipwreck and the sea has ever equaled the great scene of ‘Pericles,’ no such note of music was ever struck out of the clash and contention of tempestuous elements,” one cannot but feel that he indulges in exaggeration.