The tempests raged, the waters dark
Around the mother tossed and swelled;
With not unmoistened cheek she held
Her Perseus in her arms and said:
'What sorrows bow this hapless head!
Thou sleepst the while, thy gentle breast
Is heaving in unbroken rest,
In this our dark, unjoyous home,
Clamped with the rugged brass, the gloom
Scarce broken by the doubtful light