The shrouds were flutt’ring wide!
The rudder gone, the lofty deck
Was rock’d from side to side—
Poor Zelma’s eyes now dropp’d their last big tear,
While, from her tawny cheek, the blood recoil’d with fear.
XX.
Now frantic, on the sands she roam’d,
Now shrieking stop’d to view
Where high the liquid mountains foam’d,
Around the exhausted crew—