stretch;
Far as the eye can glance on either side,
In a broad space and level line they glide;
All in their wedge-like figures from the north,
Day after day, flight after flight, go forth. 
   In-shore their passage tribes of Sea-gulls urge,
And drop for prey within the sweeping surge;
Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly
Far back, then turn, and all their force apply,
While to the storm they give their weak complaining cry;
Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast,
And in the restless ocean dip for rest. 
   Darkness begins to reign; the louder wind
Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind;
But frights not him whom evening and the spray
In part conceal—­yon Prowler on his way: 
Lo! he has something seen; he runs apace,
As if he fear’d companion in the chase;
He sees his prize, and now he turns again,
Slowly and sorrowing—­“Was your search in vain?”
Gruffly he answers, “’Tis a sorry sight! 
A seaman’s body:  there’ll be more to-night!”
   Hark! to those sounds! they’re from distress at sea;
How quick they come!  What terrors may there be! 
Yes, ’tis a driven vessel:  I discern
Lights, signs of terror, gleaming from the stern;
Others behold them too, and from the town
In various parties seamen hurry down;
Their wives pursue, and damsels urged by dread,
Lest men so dear be into danger led;
Their head the gown has hooded, and their call
In this sad night is piercing like the squall;
They feel their kinds of power, and when they meet,
Chide, fondle, weep, dare, threaten, or entreat. 
   See one poor girl, all terror and alarm,
Has fondly seized upon her lover’s arm;
“Thou shalt not venture;” and he answers “No! 
I will not:”—­still she cries, “Thou shalt not go.” 
   No need of this; not here the stoutest boat
Can through such breakers, o’er such billows float,
Yet may they view these lights upon the beach,
Which yield them hope whom help can never reach. 
   From parted clouds the moon her radiance throws
On the wild waves, and all the danger shows;
But shows them beaming in her shining vest,
Terrific splendour! gloom in glory dress’d! 
This for a moment, and then clouds again
Hide every beam, and fear and darkness reign. 
   But hear we not those sounds?  Do lights appear? 
I see them not! the storm alone I hear: 
And lo! the sailors homeward take their way;
Man must endure—­let us submit and pray. 
   Such are our Winter-views:  but night comes on —
Now business sleeps, and daily cares are gone;
Now parties form, and some their friends assist
To waste the idle hours at sober whist;
The tavern’s pleasure or the concert’s charm
Unnumber’d moments of their sting disarm: 
Play-bills and open doors a crowd invite,
To pass off one dread portion of the night;
And show and song and luxury combined,
Lift off from man this burthen of mankind.