66
Now at what time their anchors high uprose, lurking in Night’s murk shadow rose the Moor, stealthy to cut the cables of his foes, that all might perish on the rocky shore: But watched with lynx-like glances, clear and close, the Portingalls prepared for ev’ry stowre: Finding his victims wakeful th’ enemy fled by wings of terror, not by paddle, sped.