Now blows the wind in front, and now in rear, And drives this wave an-end, that other back;
Others the reeling vessel's side o'erpeer;
And every billow threatens equal wrack.
The pilot sighs, confused and pale with fear;
Vainly he calls aloud to shift the tack, To strike or jibe the yard; and with his hand, Signs to the crew the thing he would command.