right for these times of dramatic change in how Americans

After the storm has arisen, Hero sees the danger, and cries,

right for these times of dramatic change in how Americans

"Woe, ah! Woe; great Jove have pity, Listen to my sad entreaty, Yet for what can Hero pray? Should the gods in pity listen, He, e'en now the false abyss in, Struggles with the tempest's spray. All the birds that skim the wave In hasty flight are hieing home; T the lee of safer haven All the storm-tossed vessels come.

right for these times of dramatic change in how Americans

"Ah! I know he laughs at danger, Dares again the frequent venture, Lured by an almighty power; For he swore it when we parted, With the vow which binds true-hearted Lovers to the latest hour. Yes! Even as this moment hastens Battles he the wave-crests rude, And to their unfathomed chasms Dags him down the angry flood.

right for these times of dramatic change in how Americans

"Pontus false! Thy sunny smile Was the lying traitor's guile, Like a mirror flashing there: All thy ripples gently playing Til they triumphed in betraying Him into thy lying snare. Now in thy mid-current yonder, Onward still his course he urges, Thou the false, on him the fated Pouring loose thy terror-surges. Waxes high the tempest's danger, Waves to mountains rise in anger, Oceans swell, and breakers dash, Foaming, over cliffs of rock Where even navies, stiff with oak, Could not bear the crash. In the gale her torch is blasted, Beacon of the hoped-for strand; Horror broods above the waters, Horror broods above the land.

Prays she Venus to assuage The hurricane's increasing rage, And to sooth the billows' scorn. And as gale on gale arises, Vows to each as sacrifices Spotless steer with gilded horn. To all the goddesses below, To "all the gods in heaven that be," She prays that oil of peace may flow Softly on the storm-tossed sea.

Blest Leucothea, befriend me! >From cerulean halls attend me; Hear my prayer of agony. In the ocean desert's raving, Storm-tossed seamen, succor craving, Find in thee their helper nigh. Wrap him in thy charmed veil, Secret spun and secret wove, Certain from the deepest wave To lift him to its crests above."

Now the tempests wild are sleeping, And from the horizon creeping Rays of morning streak the skies, Peaceful as it lay before The placid sea reflects the shore, Skies kiss waves and waves the skies. Little ripples, lightly plashing, Break upon the rock-bound strand, And they trickle, lightly playing O'er a corpse upon the sand.

Yes, 'tis he! Although he perished, Still his sacred troth he cherished, An instant's glance tells all to her; Not a tear her eye lets slip Not a murmur leaves her lip; Down she looks in cold despair; Gazes round the desert sea, Trustless gazes round the sky, Flashes then of noble fire Through her pallid visage fly!

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