Our hull, if once it strikes that iron coast, Asunder bursts, in instant ruin lost; Nor she alone, but with her all the crew, Beyond relief, are doom'd to perish too: Such mischiefs follow if we bear away; O safer that sad refuge--to delay! "Then of our purpose this appears the scope, To weigh the danger with the doubtful hope: 680 Though sorely buffeted by every sea, Our hull unbroken long may try a-lee; The crew, though harass'd much with toils severe, Still at their pumps, perceive no hazards near: Shall we, incautious, then the danger tell, At once their courage and their hope to quell? Prudence forbids! this southern tempest soon May change its quarter with the changing moon; Its rage, though terrible, may soon subside, Nor into mountains lash the unruly tide; 690 These leaks shall then decrease--the sails once more Direct our course to some relieving shore." Thus while he spoke, around from man to man At either pump a hollow murmur ran; For, while the vessel through unnumber'd chinks, Above, below, the invading water drinks, Sounding her depth they eyed the wetted scale, And lo! the leaks o'er all their powers prevail: Yet at their post, by terrors unsubdued, They with redoubling force their task pursued. 700 And now the senior pilots seem'd to wait Arion's voice, to close the dark debate. Not o'er his vernal life the ripening sun Had yet progressive twice ten summers run; Slow to debate, yet eager to excel, In thy sad school, stern Neptune! taught too well: With lasting pain to rend his youthful heart, Dire fate in venom dipp'd her keenest dart; Till his firm spirit, temper'd long to ill, Forgot her persecuting scourge to feel; 710 But now the horrors, that around him roll, Thus rouse to action his rekindling soul: "Can we, delay'd in this tremendous tide, A moment pause what purpose to decide? Alas! from circling horrors thus combined, One method of relief alone we find: Thus water-logg'd, thus helpless to remain Amid this hollow, how ill judged! how vain! Our sea-breach'd vessel can no longer bear The floods that o'er her burst in dread career; 720 The labouring hull already seems half-fill'd With water through a hundred leaks distill'd; Thus drench'd by every wave, her riven deck, Stript and defenceless, floats a naked wreck; At every pitch the o'erwhelming billows bend Beneath their load the quivering bowsprit's end; A fearful warning! since the masts on high On that support with trembling hope rely; At either pump our seamen pant for breath, In dire dismay anticipating death; 730