as that he
Could raise a stormy rumpus,
Like Prospero make breezes blow,
And rocks and billows thump us,--
But little we supposed what he
Could with the needle compass!

IX.

Soon came a storm--the sea at first
Seem'd lying almost fallow--
When lo! full crash, with billowy dash,
From clouds of black and yellow,
Came such a gale as blows but once
A cent'ry, like the aloe!

X.

Our stomachs we had just prepared
To vest a small amount in;
When, gush! a flood of brine came down
The skylight--quite a fountain,
And right on end the table rear'd
Just like the Table Mountain.

XI.

Down rush'd the soup, down gush'd the wine,
Each roll, its role repeating,
Roll'd down--the round of beef declar'd
For parting--not for meating!
Off flew the fowls, and all the game
Was "too far gone for eating!"

XII.

Down knife and fork--down went the pork,
The lamb too broke its tether;
Down mustard went--each condiment--
Salt--pepper--all together!
Down everything, like craft that seek
The Downs in stormy weather.

XIII.

Down plunged the Lady of the Lake,
Her timbers seem'd to sever;
Down, down, a dreary derry down,
Such lurch she had gone never;
She almost seem'd about to take
A bed of down forever!

XIV.

Down dropt the captain's nether jaw,
Thus robbed of all its uses,
He thought he saw the Evil One
Beside Vesuvian sluices,
Playing at dice for soul and ship,
And throwing Sink and Deuces.

XV.

Down fell the steward on his face,
To all the Saints commending;
And candles to the Virgin vow'd,
As save-alls 'gain'st his ending.
Down fell the mate, he thought his fate,
Checkmate, was close impending!

XVI.

Down fell the cook--the cabin boy,
Their beads with fervor telling,
While Alps of surge, with snowy verge,
Above the yards came yelling.
Down fell the crew, and on their knees
Shudder'd at each white swelling!

XVII.

Down sunk the sun of bloody hue,
His crimson light a cleaver
To each red rover of a wave:
To eye of fancy-weaver,
Neptune, the god, seemed tossing in
A raging scarlet fever!

XVIII.

Sore, sore afraid, each Papist pray'd
To Saint aid Virgin Mary;
But one there was that stood composed
Amid the waves' vagary;
As staunch as rock, a true game-cock
'Mid chicks of Mother Carey!

XIX.

His ruddy cheek retained its streak,
No danger seem'd to shrink him:
His step still bold--of mortal mo