The Tempest
by: John William Waterhouse
If by you art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, alley them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel Who had no doubt some noble creature in her Dased all to peices! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished! Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallowed and The fraughting souls within her.
by: Romney
by: Ward
