"On a day, Sitting upon a rock above the spray, 650 I saw grow up from the horizon's brink A gallant vessel: soon she seem'd to sink Away from me again, as though her course Had been resum'd in spite of hindering force-- So vanish'd: and not long, before arose Dark clouds, and muttering of winds morose. Old Eolus would stifle his mad spleen, But could not: therefore all the billows green Toss'd up the silver spume against the clouds. The tempest came: I saw that vessel's shrouds 660 In perilous bustle; while upon the deck Stood trembling creatures. I beheld the wreck; The final gulphing; the poor struggling souls: I heard their cries amid loud thunder-rolls. O they had all been sav'd but crazed eld Annull'd my vigorous cravings: and thus quell'd And curb'd, think on't, O Latmian! did I sit Writhing with pity, and a cursing fit Against that hell-born Circe. The crew had gone, By one and one, to pale oblivion; 670 And I was gazing on the surges prone, With many a scalding tear and many a groan, When at my feet emerg'd an old man's hand, Grasping this scroll, and this same slender wand. I knelt with pain--reached out my hand--had grasp'd These treasures--touch'd the knuckles--they unclasp'd-- I caught a finger: but the downward weight O'erpowered me--it sank. Then 'gan abate The storm, and through chill aguish gloom outburst The comfortable sun. I was athirst 680 To search the book, and in the warming air Parted its dripping leaves with eager care. Strange matters did it treat of, and drew on My soul page after page, till well-nigh won Into forgetfulness; when, stupefied, I read these words, and read again, and tried My eyes against the heavens, and read again. O what a load of misery and pain Each Atlas-line bore off!--a shine of hope Came gold around me, cheering me to cope 690 Strenuous with hellish tyranny. Attend! For thou hast brought their promise to an end.