The Dawn in Britain :: :: University of Virginia Library

Christ sails, with them, upon the Celtic deep.
The saints uprise, from sleep, as Lazarus;
Revived their flesh, with new peace in their hearts;
And wish for land. Next morrow after, was;
When the mist lifting, looms Italic vessel,
Nigh, labouring in great billows; and from whose
Split mast, her tackling burst, rent mainsail blows!
Buffet immane wind-driven waves; and smite,
Over the ship. Ah, dimly, her castles, view,
The brethren, full of rangéd legionaries!
Romans, that stretch, to their victorious ensigns,
As gods! right hands. Whelms immane chacing billow,
Huge on the poop; and breaks their banks of oars:
Ah! covers all those marshalled legionaries,
Waves rush together, o'er the drowning vessel!
They go down quick, to violent gates of death;
And hell, doth now, those gentile souls enclose,

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For whom Christ died! The saints, in Mnason's carrack,
Which rides in calm, long pray and taste no bread.