Ngoc Nguyen Poet I do not know?

Into the Tempest

Splashing, thrashing, wetly crashing
      rages the rolling sea, 
like a dying serpent swirled 
      in waves of misery!

Through stormy gales and black of night,
      these sailors from afar
seek out the dim, faint, speckled glow 
      of heaven's Compass Star.

But howling, howling, madly scowling
       swells the deadly squall
with spite and ire in its briny veins
       to damn them—damn them all!

So far away from home and hearth
       their ship has sailed the seas;
its men seen sights of boon wonders
       with deft and seafaring ease.

Trapped by the foaming, deadly squall;
       the wrath of the ocean
rocks their masts and strikes at their hull
       like Neptune’s winged griffon.

Gnarling, gnarling, viciously snarling
      the squall’s stormy tempests
strike and savagely beat at the
      ship’s wooden bow and breasts.

Alas! Alas! All is now lost
      as soul after drowning soul
lose hope, panic, and then perish
      with HMS The Merry Troll!

The stormy tempests of the squall
      sink, swallow, and devour 
up all without rue or ruth: so scorn
      not the squall's wrathful power!

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