Classic Poem

I

Hark , hark, I hear the North Wind roar,
See how he riots on the Shoar;
And with expanded Wings at stretch,
Ruffels the Billows on the Beach,

II

Hark, how the routed Waves complain,
And call for Succor to the Main,
Flying the Stormes as if they meant
To creep into the Continent.

III

Surely all Æoll's huffing Brood
Are met to War against the Flood,
Which seems surpriz'd, and has not yet
Had time his Levies to compleat.

IV

The beaten Bark, her Rudder lost,
Is on the rowling Billows tost;
Her Keel now Plows the Ouse, and soon
Her Top-Mast tilts against the Moon.

V

'Tis strange! the Pilot keeps his seat;
His bounding Ship does so curvet,
Whilst the poor Passengers are found,
In their own fears already drown'd.

VI

Now Fins do serve for Wings, and bear
The Scaly Squadrons through the Air;
Whilst the Air's Inhabitants do stain
Their gaudy Plumage in the Main.

VII

Now Stars concealed in Clouds do peep
Into the secrets of the deep;
And Lobsters spued up from the brine,
With Cancer constellations shine.

VIII

Sure Neptune's Watery Kingdoms yet
Since first their Corral Groves were wet,
Were ne're disturbed with such alarms,
Nor had such trial of their Arms.

IX

See where a Liquid Mountain rides,
Made of innumerable Tides,
And tumbles headlong to the Strand,
As if the Sea would come to Land.

X

A Sail, a Sail, I plainly spy,
Betwixt the Ocean and the Sky,
An Argosy , a tall built Ship,
With all her Pregnant Sails a-trip.

XI

Nearer, and nearer, she makes way,
With Canvas Wings into the Bay;
And now upon the Deck appears
A crowd of busy Mariners.

XII

Methinks I hear her Cordage crack,
With furrowing Neptune's foaming Back,
Who wounded, and revengeful roars
His Fury to the neighb'ring Shoars.

XIII

With massy trident high, he heaves
Her sliding Keel above the Waves,
Opening his Liquid Arms to take
The bold invader in his wrack.

XIV

See how she dives into his Chest,
Whilst raising up his floating Breast
To clasp her in, he makes her rise
Out of the reach of his surprize.

XV

Nearer she comes, and still doth sweep
The Azure Surface of the deep,
And now at last the Waves have thrown
Their Rider on our ALBION.

XVI

Under the chalk-cliff's spumy base,
The Sea-sick Hulk her fraight displays,
And as she wallowes on the Sand,
Vomits her burthen to the Land.

XVII

With Heads erect, and plying Oar,
The Ship-wrack'd Mates make to the Shoar;
And dreadless of their danger, climb
The floating Mountains of the brine.

XVIII

Hark, hark, the noise, their Eccho's make
The Islands Silver Walls to shake;
Sure with these throes, the lab'ring Main
'S delivered of a Hurricane.