Precludes the help of every guiding sail;
And, driven before it on the watery waste,
To rocky shores and scenes of death we haste;
But haply Falconera we may shun,
And long to Grecian coasts is yet the run:
Less harassed then, our scudding ship may bear
Th’ assaulting surge repelled upon her rear,
And since as soon that tempest may decay,
When steering shoreward—wherefore thus delay?
Should we at last be driven by dire decree