122
SONNET X.
O God! have mercy in this dreadful hour
On the poor mariner! in comfort here
Safe sheltered as I am, I almost fear
The blast that rages with resistless power.
What were it now to toss upon the waves, . .
The maddened waves and know no succour near;
The howling of the storm alone to hear
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves;
To gaze amid the horrors of the night
And only see the billow's gleaming light;
Amid the dread of death to think of her
Who as she listens sleepless to the gale
Puts up a silent prayer and waxes pale?
O God have mercy on the mariner!
On the poor mariner! in comfort here
Safe sheltered as I am, I almost fear
The blast that rages with resistless power.
What were it now to toss upon the waves, . .
The maddened waves and know no succour near;
The howling of the storm alone to hear
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves;
To gaze amid the horrors of the night
And only see the billow's gleaming light;
Amid the dread of death to think of her
Who as she listens sleepless to the gale
Puts up a silent prayer and waxes pale?
O God have mercy on the mariner!
