How he made of a spray-capped wave his steed,
And rode o’er the ocean with Jehu speed,
(’Till his charger tossed its snowy mane,
And sank to its native depths again,)
How he hastened the ship on her homeward way,
And scattered her track with the ocean’s spray.
’Twere vain to number the acts like these,
That were done that day, by the joyous Breeze—
While I could but mark that, what first seemed rude,
Was gentle, and tender, and kind, and good.