Ye never knew the infernal fire,
The withering curse, the scorching ire,
That rages, maddens in the breast
Of him who rules the billow’s crest.
Heard ye that last despairing yell
That wailed Creation’s funeral knell,
When young and old, the vile, the brave,
Were circled in one common grave?
While on my ear of driving foam
By moaning whirlwinds sped,