It lulls not, nor its fury slakes, but grown Wilder, shows worse by day, -- if this be day, Which but by reckoning of the hours is known, And not by any cheering light or ray.
Now, with more fear (his weaker hope o'erthrown).
The sorrowing Patron to the wind gives way, He veers his barque before the cruel gale, And scowers the foaming sea with humble sail.