Foreseeing the assault with wary eye, Prepared, and at close ward, behold the Moor!
As pilot against whom, now cresting nigh, The threatening billow comes with hollow roar, Towards it turns his prow, and, when so high He views the sea, would gladly be ashore.
Sobrino rears his buckler, to withstand The furious fall of Falerina's brand.