THE waves rise in rebellion—far away
The wreck-doomed ship is borne resistless on;
And hark! the screaming sea-mews trill their lay
Of terrible delight—its echo's moan
Dies wildly on the tempest, and the spray
Dashes around us, chilling hope to stone;
And vast and fathomless the mountain waves,
Yawning around us, marshall forth our graves.
The clouds move like the billows o'er the ocean,
Clashing in fury as they hurry by;
They mingle fiercely, and in rude commotion,
As if a hurricane swept o'er the sky.
Now, let the soul rely on her devotion,
Now, let the prayer to HIM be lifted high,
Who stills the storm, and calms the mighty wave,
"And strong to smite, is also strong to save."
See! yon poor wretch dashed from the vessel's prow—
He catches at the spar that hurries past,
'Tis vain! the waves are mightier still—and now,
Beneath their force his strength gives way at last:
Onward we drift—but, lo! o'er heaven's brow
The moon her welcome light, at length, has cast,
Like hope o'er madness, but it tends to show
The life that smiles above, the death that yawns below.