And the salt spray dimm'd all things to his view.
For neither port for ships nor shelt'ring cove 485
Was there, but the rude coast a headland bluff
Presented, rocks and craggy masses huge.
Then, hope and strength exhausted both, deep-groan'd
The Chief, and in his noble heart complain'd.
Alas! though Jove hath given me to behold, 490
Unhoped, the land again, and I have pass'd,
Furrowing my way, these num'rous waves, there seems
No egress from the hoary flood for me.
Sharp stones hem in the waters; wild the surge
Raves ev'ry where; and smooth the rocks arise; 495
Deep also is the shore, on which my feet
No standing gain, or chance of safe escape.
What if some billow catch me from the Deep
Emerging, and against the pointed rocks
Dash me conflicting with its force in vain? 500
But should I, swimming, trace the coast in search
Of sloping beach, haven or shelter'd creek,
I fear lest, groaning, I be snatch'd again
By stormy gusts into the fishy Deep,
Or lest some monster of the flood receive 505
Command to seize me, of the many such
By the illustrious Amphitrite bred;
For that the mighty Shaker of the shores
Hates me implacable, too well I know.
While such discourse within himself he held, 510
A huge wave heav'd him on the rugged coast,
Where
