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Updated: May 5, 2025
Sleep, gentle sleep Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast, Seal up the shipboy's eyes, and rock his brains, In cradle of the rude imperious surge; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurry, death itself awakes Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea boy in an hour so rude?
Ever and anon the sable canopy that hung around us was streaked with lightning, and the peals, by which it was accompanied, were deafning, and with scarcely any intermission.
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