Their waves in ceaseless billows pour;65
As Euxine's swelling waters rise
Beneath the lowering northern skies,
Where bright Boötes wheels his team
High o'er the ocean's darksome stream:70
With such assaults, by such wild tempests blown,
Does fortune batter at a kingly throne!
Who would be feared, in fear must live.
No kindly night can refuge give;
Nor sleep, that comforts all the rest,75