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THE STORM.

was a vessel combating the waves, Like one who struggles with adversity: The sea has wash'd her decks, and the wet sails Hang droopingly; by the blue lightning's flash— Light horrible and strange—there might be seen All shapes of wild despair; the clasped hands, Rais'd in scarce-conscious prayer, the cold white lip, The stern fix'd brow, which braves the death that yet