“Now, by the transient vivid light,
“I mark the frantic throng!
“Now up the tatter’d shrouds my Draco flies—
“While o’er the plunging prow, the curling billows rise.
XVII.
“The topmast falls—three shackled slaves—
“Cling to the Vessel’s side!
“Now lost amid the madd’ning waves—
“Now on the mast they ride—
“See! on the forecastle my Draco stands