Sick of the tumult, where the trumpet’s breath
Bids ruin smile, and drowns the groan of death;
’Tis mine, retired beneath this cavern hoar,
That stands all lonely on the sea-beat shore,
Far other themes of deep distress to sing
Than ever trembled from the vocal string;
A scene from dumb Oblivion to restore,
To Fame unknown, and new to epic lore:
Where hostile elements conflicting rise,
And lawless surges swell against the skies,