Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/415

Rh Gloom broods o'er all, but not of night alone; For blinding mists add blackness to the night, And murky waves with murky sky contend. Then in concerted rush from every hand The winds fall roughly on the ravished sea, And heave its boiling billows from the depths; While east with west wind struggles, south with north. Each wields his wonted arms to lash the sea: The fierce Strymonian blast with rattling hail Roars on, and Libyan Auster heaps the waves Upon the seething sands. Nor those alone Provoke the strife: for raving Notus first Grows big with bursting clouds and swells the waves; And boisterous Eurus shakes the Orient, The far Arabian realms and morning seas. What dire disaster did fierce Corus work, His dark face gleaming forth upon the deep? We thought the very heavens would be rent, The gods fall down from out the riven sky, And all revert to chaos as of old. The waves opposed the winds, the winds in turn Hurled back the warring waves. Nor was the sea Within itself contained; but, lifted high, It mingled with the streaming floods of heaven. Nor were we solaced in our dreadful plight By open view and knowledge of our ills; For darkness like the murky night of Styx Hedged in our view. Yet was this darkness rent, When flashing lightnings cleft the inky clouds With crashing bolts. Yet e'en this fearful gleam Was welcome to our eyes: so sweet it is To those in evil plight to see their ills. The fleet assists its own destruction, too, Prow dashing hard on prow, and side on side; Now sinks it headlong in the yawning flood, And now, belched forth, it sees the air again. One plunges down, of its own weight compelled; Another, through its gaping side, invites Destruction from the raging floods; a third