But chief at sea, whose every flexile wave Obeys the blast, the aerial tumult swells. In the dread ocean, undulating wide, Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe, The circling Typhon, whirl'd from point to point, Exhausting all the rage of all the sky, And dire Ecnephia reign. Amid the heavens, Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy speck Compress'd, the mighty tempest brooding dwells Of no regard save to the skillful eye, Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs Aloft, or on the promontory's brow Musters its force. A faint deceitful calm, A fluttering gale, the demon sends before, To tempt the spreading sail. Then down at once, Precipitant, descends a mingled mass Of roaring winds, and flame, and rushing floods. In wild amazement fix'd the sailor stands. Art is too slow. By rapid fate oppress'd, His broad-wing'd vessel drinks the whelming tide, Hid in the bosom of the black abyss. With such mad seas the daring Gama fought, For many a day, and many a dreadful night, Incessant, laboring round the _stormy cape_; By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst Of gold. For then, from ancient gloom, emerg'd The rising world of trade: the genius, then, Of navigation, that in hopeless sloth Had slumber'd on the vast Atlantic deep For idle ages, starting, heard at last The Lusitanian prince; who, heaven-inspired, To love of useful glory rous'd mankind, And in unbounded commerce mixed the world. Increasing still the terrors of these storms, His jaws horrific arm'd with threefold fate, Here dwells the direful shark. Lur'd by the scent Of steaming crowds, of rank disease, and death, Behold! he rushing cuts the briny flood, Swift as the gale can bear the ship along; And from the partners of that cruel trade Which spoils unhappy Guinea of her sons, Demands his share of prey--demands themselves. The stormy fates descend: one death involves Tyrants and slaves; when straight their mangled limbs Crashing at once, he dyes the purple seas With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal.