The pallid sun, late rising from the east,
Looms through the murky cloud, and seeks the west.
Dark gloomy Night usurps unequal sway,
Nor deigns to share it with the God of day.
The long black billows roll—the whirlwinds roar—
And smokes with shiver'd foam the rocky shore.
Now headlong in the yawning trough they merge—
Now rise like cormorants on the crested surge–
Chills their spray-beaten limbs the icy air—
Chills their heart's blood of death the instant fear. 310
Poor hapless mortals l but a plank of wood
Twixt them and stygian Pluto's drear abode!
Sailors, forewarn'd within your ports remain,
Nor, rashly venturing, loss and ruin gain.
E'en while the sun in Sagittarius lies,
Trust not the faithless sea and clouldless skies.
Mark where on zodiac-line the Archer stands,
With outstretch'd bow and arrow in his hands.
When from the east his monster form he rears,
Bright Scorpio's gem Antar aloft appears; 320
And high in their meridian glory roll
Cold Cynosyra's stars around the pole:
Orion plunges in the western waves,
And half his body northern Cepheus laves.
There lies an Arrow—from what bow it fell
Near to the flying Swan, no Poets tell.
