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And with the last close of his martial strain He plunged with his lyre in the deep blue main! ...The tempest has burst from its blackened dwelling. The lightning is flashing, the waters are swelling In mountains crested with foam and with froth, And the wind has rushed like a giant forth; The deck is all spray, the mast is shattered, The sails, like the leaves in the autumn, are scattered; The mariner 's pale with fear, for a grave Is in the dark bosom of every wave. The billows rushed—one fearful cry Is heard of human agony! Another swell—no trace is seen Of what upon its breast has been!.... But who is he, who o'er the sea Rides like a god, triumphantly,