Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/105






 * "On a day,

Sitting upon a rock above the spray, I saw grow up from the horizon's brink A gallant vessel: soon she seem'd to sink Away from me again, as though her course Had been resumed in spite of hindering force— So vanish'd: and not long, before arose Dark clouds, and muttering of winds morose. Old Æolus would stifle his mad spleen, But could not, therefore all the billows green Toss'd up the silver spume against the clouds. The tempest came: I saw that vessel's shrouds In perilous bustle; while upon the deck Stood trembling creatures. I beheld the wreck; The final gulfing; the poor struggling souls: I heard their cries amid loud thunder-rolls. O they had all been saved but crazed eld Annull'd my vigorous cravings: and thus quell'd And curb'd, think on 't, O Latmian! did I sit Writhing with pity, and a cursing fit Against that hell-born Circe. The crew had gone, By one and one, to pale oblivion; And I was gazing on the surges prone, With many a scalding tear, and many a groan,