While chill suspense and fear congealed their blood; Wide burst in dazzling sheets the living flame, And dread concussion rends th’ 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, Revealed in all its mournful shade and light; E’en now my ear with quick vibration feels Th’ explosion burst in strong rebounding peals; Swift through my pulses glides the kindling fire, As lightning glances on th’ electric wire: Yet ah! the languid colours vainly strive 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 hailed 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; For now in front her trembling inmates see The hills of Greece emerging on the lee— So the lost lover views that fatal morn, On which for ever from his bosom torn, The maid adored resigns her blooming charms, To bless with love some happier rival’s arms; So to Eliza dawned that cruel day That tore Æneas from her sight away, That saw him parting never to return, Herself in funeral flames decreed to burn. O yet in clouds, thou genial Source of Light! Conceal thy radiant glories from our sight; Go, with thy smile adorn thy happy plain, And gild the scenes where health and pleasure reign: But let not here, in scorn, thy wanton beam Insult the dreadful grandeur of my theme. While shoreward now the bounding vessel flies, Full in her van St. George’s Cliffs arise; High o’er the rest a pointed crag is seen, That hung projecting o’er a mossy green; Huge breakers on the larboard bow appear, And full a-head its eastern ledges bear: To steer more eastward Albert still commands, And shun, if possible, the fatal strands— Nearer and nearer now the danger grows, And all their skill relentless fates oppose; For while more eastward they direct the prow, Enormous waves the quivering deck o’erflow; While, as she wheels, unable to subdue Her sallies, still they dread her broaching-to: Alarming thought! for now no more a-lee Her trembling side could bear the mountained sea, And if pursuing waves she scuds before, Headlong she runs upon the frightful shore; A shore, where shelves and hidden rocks abound, Where death in secret ambush lurks around: Not half so dreadful to Æneas’ eyes The Straits of Sicily were seen to rise, When Palinurus from the helm descry’d, The Rocks of Scylla on his eastern side, While in the west, with hideous yawn disclosed,