| In vast deeps he toils, He clutches and moils, A face wreathed in coils,  Under the foam.The surging sea roils, Like a caldron boils, His power now foils, His prison home.Now his long scheming, Toiling and dreaming, Wake him, a gleaming, Harsh deity.No power more ancient, More baleful, more sentient, Ever awoke from the storm-tossed sea. |
