Though still the waters by no secret wound
A passage to her deep recesses found;
Surrounding evils yet they ponder o’er,
A storm, a dangerous sea, and leeward shore!
“Should they, though reefed, again their sails extend,
Again in shivering streamers they may rend;
Or should they stand, beneath th’ oppressive strain
The down-pressed ship may never rise again;
Too late to weather now Morea’s land,
And drifting fast on Athens’ rocky strand.”