Hurrah! I reign lord of the ocean!
How their shrieks rose in chorus! Now all is at rest;
The tempest no longer is brewing!
My dreams by the harm newly done will be blest,
So I’ll sleep for a while on a thunder-cloud’s breast,
Then rouze to hurl round me fresh ruin.
Hushed is the storm: the heavens no longer frown;
And o’er that spot, where late the bark went down,
All bright and smiling flows the treacherous wave,
Like sunshine playing on a new-made grave.