Now bound aloft, now down the billow glide: Their tracks awhile the hoary waves retain, That burn in sparkling trails along the main-- These fleetest coursers of the finny race, When threatening clouds the ethereal vault deface, 220 Their route to leeward still sagacious form, To shun the fury of the approaching storm. III. Fair Candia now no more, beneath her lee, Protects the vessel from the insulting sea; Round her broad arms, impatient of control, Roused from the secret deep, the billows roll: Sunk were the bulwarks of the friendly shore, And all the scene an hostile aspect wore. The flattering wind, that late with promised aid From Candia's bay the unwilling ship betray'd, 230 No longer fawns beneath the fair disguise, But like a ruffian on his quarry flies. Tost on the tide she feels the tempest blow, And dreads the vengeance of so fell a foe-- As the proud horse, with costly trappings gay, Exulting, prances to the bloody fray; Spurning the ground he glories in his might, But reels tumultuous in the shock of fight: Even so, caparison'd in gaudy pride, The bounding vessel dances on the tide. 240 Fierce and more fierce the gathering tempest grew, South and by west the threatening demon blew; Auster's resistless force all air invades, And every rolling wave more ample spreads: The ship no longer can her top-sails bear; No hopes of milder weather now appear. Bow-lines and halyards are cast off again, Clue-lines haul'd down, and sheets let fly amain: Embrail'd each top-sail, and by braces squared, The seamen climb aloft, and man each yard: 250 They furl'd the sails, and pointed to the wind The yards, by rolling tackles [21] then confined, While o'er the ship the gallant boatswain flies; Like a hoarse mastiff through the storm he cries-- Prompt to direct the unskilful still appears, The expert he praises, and the timid cheers. Now some, to strike top-gallant-yards [22] attend, Some, travellers up the weather-back-stays [23] send, At each mast-head the top-ropes [24] others bend: The parrels, lifts, [25] and clue-lines soon are gone, 260 Topp'd and unrigg'd, they down the backstays run; The yards secure along the booms [26] were laid, And all the flying ropes aloft belay'd: Their sails reduced, and all the rigging clear, Awhile the crew relax from toils severe; Awhile their spirits with fatigue opprest, In vain expect the alternate hour of rest-- But with redoubling force the tempests blow, And watery hills in dread succession flow: A dismal shade o'ercasts the frowning skies; 270 New troubles grow; fresh difficulties rise;