The rage of sky and main. The billowy waste
Grows level, and the ether’s gloom dissolves;
The waves on this side, and the blasts on that,
135 Are to their friendly mood restored; and, where
The placid keel marks out a path secure,
White traces in the emerald furrow bloom.
The sailor then does to the reverend Lord
Of death make grateful offering of his fear;
140 Then enters friendly ports.
Jonah the seer
The while is voyaging, in other craft
Embarked, and cleaving ’neath the lowest waves
A wave: his sails the intestines of the fish,
Inspired with breath ferine; himself, shut in;
145 By waters, yet untouched; in the sea’s heart
And yet beyond its reach; ’mid wrecks of fleets
Half-eaten, and men’s carcasses dissolved
In putrid disintegrity: in life
Learning the process of his death; but still—
150 To be a sign hereafter of the Lord—
A witness was he (in his very self),
Not of destruction, but of death’s repulse.