Too near the fatal margin of the sea,
The hull dismasted there awhile may ride,
With lengthened cables, on the raging tide;
Perhaps kind Heaven, with interposing power,
May curb the tempest ere that dreadful hour;
But here, ingulfed and foundering, while we stay,
Fate hovers o’er, and marks us for her prey.”
He said: Palemon saw with grief of heart,
The storm prevailing o’er the pilot’s art;
In silent terror and distress involved,