And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below.
And now he saw the warring winds that swept across the bay
Had struck the battered shallop and carried it away.
"O piteous heaven," he cried aloud, "my hopes are like yon bark:
Scattered upon the storm they lie and never reach their mark."
And suddenly from cloudy heavens came down the darkling night
And in his melancholy mood the captive left the height.
He gained his boat, with trembling hand he seized the laboring oar
And turning to the foaming wave he left his native shore.
"Ah, well I wot on ocean's breast when loud the tempest blows