Indignant they retire, and long oppose Superior armies that around them close; Still shield the flanks, the routed squadrons join, And guide the flight in one continued line. Thus they direct the flying bark before The impelling floods, that lash her to the shore: High o'er the poop the audacious seas aspire, 410 Uproll'd in hills of fluctuating fire; With labouring throes she rolls on either side, And dips her gunnels in the yawning tide; Her joints, unhinged, in palsied languors play, As ice-flakes part beneath the noontide ray. The gale howls doleful through the blocks and shrouds, And big rain pours a deluge from the clouds; From wintry magazines that sweep the sky, Descending globes of hail impetuous fly; High on the masts, with pale and livid rays, 420 Amid the gloom portentous meteors blaze; The ethereal dome in mournful pomp array'd Now buried lies beneath impervious shade; Now, flashing round intolerable light, Redoubles all the horror of the night-- Such terror Sinai's trembling hill o'erspread, When Heaven's loud trumpet sounded o'er its head: It seem'd, the wrathful Angel of the wind Had all the horrors of the skies combined, And here, to one ill-fated ship opposed, 430 At once the dreadful magazine disclosed; And, lo! tremendous o'er the deep he springs, The inflaming sulphur flashing from his wings; Hark! his strong voice the dismal silence breaks, Mad chaos from the chains of death awakes: Loud, and more loud, the rolling peals enlarge, And blue on deck the fiery tides discharge; There all aghast the shivering wretches stood, While chill suspense and fear congeal'd their blood; Wide bursts in dazzling sheets the living flame, 440 And dread concussion rends the ethereal frame; Sick earth convulsive groans from shore to shore, And nature, shuddering, feels the horrid roar. Still the sad prospect rises on my sight, Reveal'd in all its mournful shade and light; Even now my ear with quick vibration feels The explosion burst in strong rebounding peals; Swift through my pulses glides the kindling fire, As lightning glances on the electric wire: Yet, ah! the languid colours vainly strive 450 To bid the scene in native hues revive. But, lo! at last, from tenfold darkness born, Forth issues o'er the wave the weeping morn: Hail, sacred vision! who, on orient wings, The cheering dawn of light propitious brings; All nature, smiling, hail'd the vivid ray That gave her beauties to returning day-- All but our ship! which, groaning on the tide, No kind relief, no gleam of hope descried;