The Poetry of Real Life | ||
102
ON A SHIPWRECK, OFF BEACHY-HEAD, BY COPLEY FIELDING.
Darkness behind, as of th' o'ershadowing wingsOf blank Despair, and dim, pale light before,
Like Hope expiring on the wreckstrewn shore!
Like a wild Bacchanal, roused Ocean flings
His foamy locks upon the wind, and sings
A hymn of triumph, marking, with the roar
Of each successive wave, some hope no more,
Snatched like the plank, to which the struggler clings!
The winds are toying with the mighty waves,
Wild playfellows, careless how many graves
Their mad mirth makes—while, on their quivering crests,
The seagull, Danger's playmate, fearless rests,
Mocking the wretch, who mercy vainly craves,
With safety's image, while Death all invests!
The Poetry of Real Life | ||