Of roofs, by the water strewn,

[Pg 16]

Lay silent and waiting, yet there was none

Within it but said typhoon!

Then it came, like a million winds

Gone mad immeasurably,

A torrid and tortuous tempest stung

By rape of the fair South Sea.

And it swept like a scud escaped

From craters of sun or moon,

And struck as no power of Heaven could,

Or of Hell—typhoon! typhoon!

And the junks were smitten and torn,

The drowning struggled and cried,

Or, dashed on the granite walls of the sea,

In succourless hundreds died.

Till I shut the sight from my eyes

And prayed for my soul to swoon:

If ever I see God's face, let it

Be guiltless of that typhoon!

 Prev. P 17/86 next