By the Lightning's vivid glare
Saw you not yon frantic stare?
By the Tempest's lurid light,
Mark her plunge to endless Night!
Struggling mid the boiling wave,
Nature, frighted at the Grave,
To the rude, the rocky strand
Faintly points her languid hand.
Cease, ye blasts, awhile to blow,
Drown not now the wail of woe!
Heard ye not yon piercing groan
That proclaim'd her spirit flown?
Whilst it soars on seraph wing,
Roaring waves her Requiem sing.