Fallen on her starboard side, on her beam ends, About to turn keel uppermost, she lies.
Meanwhile, his soul to Heaven each recommends, Surer than sure to sink, with piteous cries.
Scathe upon scathe malicious Fortune sends, And when one woe is weathered, others rise.
O'erstrained, the vessel splits; and through her seams In many a part the hostile water streams.