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Now beam a flaming crimson on the eye;
And now assume the purple's deeper dye.
But here description clouds each shining ray:
What terms of art can nature's powers display?

Now, while on high the fresh'ning gale she feels, The ship beneath her lofty pressure reels: Th' auxiliar sails, that court a gentle breeze, From their high stations sink by slow degrees: The watchful ruler of the helm no more With fix'd attention eyes th' adjacent shore, But by the oracle of truth below, The wond'rous magnet, guides the wayward prow. The wind, that still th' impressive canvass swell'd, Swift and more swift the yielding bark impell'd. Impatient thus she glides along the coast, 'Till far behind the hill of Jove is lost: And, while aloof from Retimo she steers, Malacca's foreland full in front appears.

But see! in confluence borne before the blast, Clouds roll'd on clouds the dusky noon o'ercast; The black'ning ocean curls; the winds arise; And the dark scud in swift succession flies. While the swoln canvass bends the masts on high, Low in the waves the leeward cannon lie.

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The sailors now, to give the ship relief,
Reduce the topsails by a single reef.

Each lofty yard with slacken'd cordage reels ;
Rattle the creaking blocks, and ringing wheels.
Down the tall masts the topsails sink amain;
And, soon reduc'd, assume their post again.
More distant grew receding Candia's shore ;
And southward of the west Cape Spado bore.

Four hours the sun his high meridian throne Had left, and o'er Atlantic regions shone; Still blacker clouds, that all the skies invade, Draw o'er his sullied orb a dismal shade : A squall deep-low'ring blots the southern sky, Before whose boist'rous breath the waters fly: Its weight the top-sails can no more sustain; Reef top-sails, reef! the boatswain calls again : The halyards and top-bow-lines soon are gone; To clue-lines and reef-tackles next they run : The shivering sails descend; and now they square The yards, while ready sailors mount in air: The weather-earings and the lee they past, The reefs enroll'd, and every point made fast. Their task above thus finish'd, they descend, And vigilant th' approaching squall attend : It comes resistless! and with foaming sweep, Upturns the whitening surface of the deep:

In such a tempest, borne to deeds of death,
The wayward Sisters scour the blasted heath.
With ruin pregnant now the clouds impend,
And storm and cataract tumultuous blend.
Deep on her side the reeling vessel lies:
Brail up the mizen quick! the master cries,
Man the clue-garnets! let the main-sheet fly!
The boisterous squall still presses from on high;
And swift, and fatal as the lightning's course,
Thro' the torn main-sail bursts with thund'ring force!
While the rent canvass flutter'd in the wind,
Still on the flank the stooping bark inclin'd.
Bear up the helm a-weather! Rodmond cries;
Swift, at the word, the helm a-weather flies :
The prow with secret instinct veers apace;
And now the fore-sail right athwart they brace :
With equal sheets restrain'd, the bellying sail
Spreads a broad concave to the sweeping gale.
While o'er the foam the ship impetuous flies,
Th' attentive timoneer the helm applies:
As in pursuit along th' aerial way,
With ardent eye, the falcon marks his prey,
Each motion watches of the doubtful chase,
Obliquely wheeling thro' the liquid space;
So, govern'd by the steersman's glowing hands,
The regent helm her motion still commands.

But now, the transient squall to leeward past, Again she rallies to the sullen blast :

The helm to starboard turns; with wings inclin'd, The sidelong canvass clasps the faithless wind: The mizen draws; she springs aloof once more,

While the fore-stay-sail balances before.
The fore-sail braced obliquely to the wind,
They near the prow th' extended tack confin'd:
Then on the leeward sheet the seamen bend,
And haul the bow-line to the bowsprit end.
To top-sails next they haste; the bunt-lines gone,
The clue-lines thro' their wheel'd machinery run :
On either side below the sheets are man'd;
Again the fluttering sails their skirts expand;
Once more the top-sails, tho' with humbler plume,
Mounting aloft, their ancient posts resume;
Again the bow-lines and the yards are braced,
And all th' entangled cords in order placed.

The sail, by whirlwinds thus so lately rent,
In tatter'd ruins fluttering is unbent :
With brails refix'd, another soon prepar'd,
Ascending, spreads along beneath the yard :
To each yard-arm the head-rope they extend,
And soon their earings and the robans bend.
That task perform'd, they first the braces slack,
Then to its station drag th' unwilling tack;

And while the lee clue-garnet's lower'd away,
Taught aft the sheet, they tally and belay.

Now to the north, from Afric's burning shore, A troop of porpoises their course explore ; In curling wreaths they gambol on the tide, Now bound aloft, now down the billow glide : Their tracks awhile the hoary waves retain, That burn in sparkling trails along the main. These fleetest coursers of the finny race, When threat'ning clouds th' ethereal vault deface, Their rout to leeward still sagacious form, To shun the fury of th' approaching storm.

Fair Candia now no more beneath her lee

Protects the vessel from th' insulting sea;
Round her broad arms, impatient of controul,
Rous'd from their secret deeps the billows roll :
Sunk were the bulwarks of the friendly shore,
And all the scene an hostile aspect wore.
The flattering wind, that late with promis'd aid,
From Candia's bay th' unwilling ship betray'd,
No longer fawns beneath the fair disguise,
But like a ruffian on his quarry flies :
Tost on the tide, she feels the tempest blow,
And dreads the vengeance of so fell a foe.

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