Ere yet the tempest roars, Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars; Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind.
Our hope of Italy not only lost, On various seas by various tempests toss’d, But shut from ev’ry shore, and barr’d from ev’ry coast.
Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea, Much less against the tempest force their way.
Then, when he saw no threat’ning tempest nigh, But a sure promise of a settled sky, He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep, Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep.
On various seas by various tempests toss’d, At length we landed on your Libyan coast.
Ev’n when the wintry winds command your stay, You dare the tempests, and defy the sea.
The restless regions of the storms she sought, Where, in a spacious cave of living stone, The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne, With pow’r imperial curbs the struggling winds, And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.
Another way by chance Aeneas bends His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends, Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong, And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng, Whom late the tempest on the billows toss’d, And widely scatter’d on another coast.
If, as you seem, the sister of the day, Or one at least of chaste Diana’s train, Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain; But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss’d, What earth we tread, and who commands the coast?
While Turnus and th’ allies thus urge the war, The Trojan, floating in a flood of care, Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare.
At his foreseen approach, already quake The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake: Their seers behold the tempest from afar, And threat’ning oracles denounce the war.
The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew, And the brave leader of the Lycian crew, Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met; The sailors master’d, and the ship o’erset.
Then heav’n’s imperious queen shot down from high: At her approach the brazen hinges fly; The gates are forc’d, and ev’ry falling bar; And, like a tempest, issues out the war.
The tempests fly before their father’s face, Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace, And monster whales before their master play, And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat’ry way.
As if ’t were little from their town to chase, I thro’ the seas pursued their exil’d race; Ingag’d the heav’ns, oppos’d the stormy main; But billows roar’d, and tempests rag’d in vain.
Th’ Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw The mighty Thund’rer with majestic awe, Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around, And scatter’d tempests on the teeming ground.
Not one who heard their music from afar, Would think these troops an army train’d to war, But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar, With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore.
He lays on load with either hand, amain, And headlong drives the Trojan o’er the plain; Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows; But storms of strokes descend about his brows, A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows.
What should I tell of tempests on the main, Of Aeolus usurping Neptune’s reign?
He gives the death desir’d; his safe return By southern tempests to the seas is borne.
Whether to Latian shores your course is bent, Or, driv’n by tempests from your first intent, You seek the good Acestes’ government, Your men shall be receiv’d, your fleet repair’d, And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard: Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow’rs To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow’rs, My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.
But, like a rock unmov’d, a rock that braves The raging tempest and the rising wavesPropp’d on himself he stands; his solid sides Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tidesSo stood the pious prince, unmov’d, and long Sustain’d the madness of the noisy throng.
How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour’d, Our plains, our temples, and our town devour’d; What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms Shook Asia’s crown with European arms; Ev’n such have heard, if any such there be, Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea; And such as, born beneath the burning sky And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie.
As when a fragment, from a mountain torn By raging tempests, or by torrents borne, Or sapp’d by time, or loosen’d from the rootsProne thro’ the void the rocky ruin shoots, Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep; Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep: Involv’d alike, they rush to nether ground; Stunn’d with the shock they fall, and stunn’d from earth rebound: So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town, Should’ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down.
These airy kingdoms, and this wide command, Are all the presents of your bounteous hand: Yours is my sov’reign’s grace; and, as your guest, I sit with gods at their celestial feast; Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue; Dispose of empire, which I hold from you."
To whom the suppliant queen her pray’rs address’d, And thus the tenor of her suit express’d: "O Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav’n The pow’r of tempests and of winds has giv’n; Thy force alone their fury can restrain, And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled mainA race of wand’ring slaves, abhorr’d by me, With prosp’rous passage cut the Tuscan sea; To fruitful Italy their course they steer, And for their vanquish’d gods design new temples there.
…his curling locks, and made his temples shine, And giv’n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace, And breath’d a youthful vigor on his face; Like polish’d ivory, beauteous to behold, Or Parian marble, when enchas’d in gold: Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke, And thus with manly modesty he spoke: "He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss’d, And sav’d from shipwreck on your Libyan coast; Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne, A prince that owes his life to you alone.
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a tempest swept over the island
Shakespeare’s The Tempest features a storm created by the character, Prospero.