With trembling joy dilate Palemon’s soul;
Hope lifts his heart, before whose vivid ray
Distress recedes, and danger melts away.
Tall Ida’s summit now more distant grew,
And Jove’s high hill was rising to the view:
When on the larboard quarter they descry
A liquid column towering shoot on high;
The foaming base the angry whirlwinds sweep,
Where curling billows rouse the fearful deep:
Still round, and round, the fluid vortex flies,