His heart is stout and firm; his messmates true,
Will, at his call, their hopeless toil renew!
But hark! that peal! Old ocean reels and rings,
While wilder still, the poor craft bends and springs;
And see yon flash—like lava from the sky
Poured rashly out by some dread hand on High,
And dealing death to those unfit to die!
Again—again! And mingling with the sea
The frail thing sinks and mounts. Eternity
Now yawns at every plunge, and each strong wave