Watch well its course—explore with anxious eye

Each little cloud that floats along the sky:

Is the blue canopy serenely fair?

Yet may the thunderbolt unseen be there,

And the bark sink when peace and sunshine sleep

On the smooth bosom of the waveless deep!

Yes! ere a sound, a sign, announce thy fate,

May the blow fall which makes thee desolate!

Not always heaven’s destroying angel shrouds

His awful form in tempests and in clouds;