SHIP LAID BROADSIDE TO THE SHORE. 123
The Helm, bereft of half its vital force,
Now scarce subdued the wild unbridled course;
Quick to th' abandoned wheel ARION came
The Ship's tempestuous sallies to reclaim:
The Vessel, while the dread event draws nigh,
Seems more impatient o'er the waves to fly;
Fate spurs her on!-Thus, issuing from afar,
Advances to the Sun some blazing Star,
And, as it feels Attraction's kindling force,
Springs onward with accelerated course.
The Moment fraught with Fate approaches fast!
While thronging Sailors climb each quivering mast;
The Ship no longer now must stem the Land,
And, hard a starboard! is the last command:
While every suppliant voice to Heaven applies,
The Prow swift wheeling to the westward flies;
Twelve Sailors, on the Foremast who depend,
High on the platform of the Top ascend,
Fatal Retreat! for, while the plunging Prow
Immerges headlong in the wave below,
Down prest by watery weight the Bowsprit bends,
And from above the stem deep-crashing rends:
Beneath her Bow the floating ruins lie;
The Foremast totters unsustained on high,
And now the Ship, forelifted by the Sea,
Hurls the tall Fabric backward o'er her lee;
While, in the general wreck, the faithful Stay
Drags the Main topmast by the cap away:
Flung from the mast, the Seamen strive in vain
Through hostile floods their Vessel to regain;
Weak Hope alas! they buffet long the wave,
And grasp at Life though sinking in the Grave;
Till all exhausted, and bereft of strength,
O'erpowered they yield to cruel Fate at length;
The burying Waters close around their head,
They sink! for ever numbered with the dead.
Those who remain the weather Shrouds embrace,
Nor longer mourn their lost Companions' case;
Transfixt with terror at th' approaching doom,
Self pity in their breasts alone has room:
ALBERT, and RODMOND and PALEMON, near
With young ARION, on the Mast appear;
E'en they, amid th' unspeakable distress,
In every look distracting thoughts confess,
In every vein the refluent blood congeals,
And every bosom mortal terror feels;
Begirt with all the horror of the Main
They viewed th' adjacent Shore, but viewed in vain:
Such Torments in the drear abodes of Hell
Where sad Despair laments with rueful yell,
Such torments agonize the damned breast
That sees remote the mansions of the Blest:
It comes! the dire Catastrophe draws near,
Lashed furious on by Destiny severe:
The Ship hangs hovering on the verge of death,
Hell yawns, Rocks rise, and Breakers roar beneath!
O yet confirm my heart, ye Powers above!
This last tremendous shock of Fate to prove;
The tottering frame of Reason yet sustain,
Nor let this total havoc whirl my Brain :
Since I, all trembling in extreme distress,
Must still the horrible result express.
In vain, alas! the sacred Shades of yore Would arm the mind with Philosophic lore; In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath To smile serene amid the pangs of Death:
Immortal ZENO's self would trembling see
Inexorable Fate beneath the lee;
And EPICTETUS at the sight, in vain
Attempt his stoic firmness to retain;
Had SOCRATES, for godlike virtue famed,
And wisest of the sons of men proclaimed,
Spectator of such various horrors been,
E'en he had staggered at this dreadful Scene.
In vain the cords and axes were prepar'd,
For every Wave now smites the quivering yard;
High o'er the Ship they throw a dreadful shade,
Then on her burst in terrible cascade;
Across the foundered Deck o'erwhelming roar,
And foaming, swelling, bound upon the Shore.
Swift up the mounting Billow now she flies,
Her shattered top half-buried in the skies;
Borne o'er a latent reef the Hull impends,
Then thundering on the marble Crags descends:
Her ponderous bulk the dire concussion feels,
And o'er upheaving Surges wounded reels-
Again she plunges! hark! a second Shock
Bilges the splitting Vessel on the Rock:
Down on the vale of Death, with dismal cries,
The fated Victims shuddering cast their eyes
In wild Despair; while yet another stroke,
With strong convulsion rends the solid oak:
Ah Heaven!-behold her crashing ribs divide!
She loosens, parts, and spreads in ruin o'er the Tide.
Oh were it mine with sacred MARO's art
To wake to sympathy the feeling heart,
Like him the smooth, and mournful verse, to dress
In all the pomp of exquisite distress;
Then, too severely taught by cruel Fate,
To share in all the perils I relate,
Then might I, with unrivalled Strains deplore
Th' impervious horrors of a Leeward Shore.
As o'er the surf the bending Mainmast hung,
Still on the rigging thirty Seamen clung:
Some on a broken Crag were struggling cast,
And there by oozy tangles grappled fast;
Awhile they bore th' o'erwhelming Billows' rage,
Unequal combat with their Fate to wage;
Till all benumbed, and feeble, they forego
Their slippery hold, and sink to Shades below:
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