2 2 THE CALL OF THE SEA 



I fear not death ; 'tis the dreadful kind of death ; 

 take away the shipwreck ; then death will be a 

 gain to me. 'Tis something for one, either dying 

 a natural death or by the sword, to lay his breath- 

 less corpse in the firm ground, and to impart his 

 wishes to his kindred, and to hope for a sepulchre, 

 and not to be food for the fishes of the sea. . . . 



The guardian of the Erymanthian Bear is im- 

 mersed in the ocean, and by the influence of her 

 Constellation arouses the waves, while I am 

 ploughing the Ionian Sea by no inchnation of 

 my own ; but apprehension itself forces me to be 

 bold. Ah, wretched me ! by how tremendous a 

 gale is the sea aroused, and how the sand seethes 

 again as it is ploughed up from the lowest depths. 

 The waves, no lower than a mountain, are hurled 

 over the prow and the curving poop, and dash 

 against the resemblances of the Deities. The pine- 

 wood texture creaks ; the rigging, with loud noise, 

 is beaten to and fro ; and the very ship groans 

 responsively to my woes. The sailor, betraying 

 his fear by the paleness of an ice-cold chill, now 

 passively follows his bark o'ercome by the storm, 

 and guides it not by his skill. Just as the driver, 

 failing in his strength, loosens the useless reins on 

 a horse of unbending neck, so do I behold our 

 charioteer set the sails of the ship, not in the 

 direction that he desires, but whither the raging 



