Classic Poem

Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges
Which wash both Heaven and Hell; and thou, that hast
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass,
Having called them from the deep! Oh, still
Thy deafening dreadful thunders! Gently quench
Thy nimble sulfurous flashes! Oh, how, Lychorida,
How does my Queen?--Thou stormest venomously.
Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle
Is as a whisper in the ears of death,
Unheard.