The chainless winds unceasing swell,
That claim'st a kindred over head,
As 'twixt the skies thou seem'st to dwell;
And e'en on earth art but a spell,
Amid their realms to wander free—
Thy task of pride hath speeded well,
Thou deep, eternal, boundless sea.
O storms of night and darkness, flung
In blackening chaos o'er the world,
When thunderpeals are dreadly rung,