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POEMS.
I strive, by swimming further, to descrySome sloping shore or harbor of the isle,I fear the tempest, lest it hurl me back,Heavily groaning, to the fishy deep.Or huge sea monster, from the multitudeWhich sovereign Amphitrite feeds, be sentAgainst me by some god, for well I knowThe power who shakes the shores is wroth with me." While he revolved these doubts within his mindA huge wave hurled him toward the rugged coast.Then had his limbs been flayed, and all his bonesBroken at once, had not the blue-eyed maid,Minerva, prompted him. Borne toward the rock,He clutched it instantly, with both his hands,And, panting, clung, till that huge wave rolled by,And so escaped its fury. Back it came,
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