Eastward King Agramant had turned his prow;
And seaward steered his bark, of Africk wide;
When from the land a wicked wind 'gan blow, And took the reeling vessel on one side:
The master, seated at the helm, his brow Raised towards heaven, and to the monarch cried:
"I see so fell and fierce a tempest form, Our pinnace cannot face the pelting storm.