And now a breeze from shore began to blow, The sailors ship their oars, and cease to row, Then hoist their yards a-trip, and all their sails Let fall, to court the wind, and catch the gales. By this the vessel half her course had run, And as much rested till the rising sun; Both shores were lost to sight, when at the close Of day a stiffer gale at east arose: The sea grew white, the rolling waves from far, Like heralds, first denounce the watery war.

This seen, the master soon began to cry: “Strike, strike the topsail, let the mainsheet fly, And furl your sails:” the winds repel the sound, And in the speaker’s mouth the speech is drown’d. Yet of their own accord, as danger taught Each in his way, officiously they wrought; Some stow their oars, or stop the leaky sides; Another bolder, yet the yard bestrides, And folds the sails; a fourth with labour laves The intruding seas, and waves ejects on waves.