The Tempest: As if in a DreamRoaring, shrieking, howling,To dive into the fire;To ride on the curled clouds.Dread rattling thunder,Point the Tempest.Call forth the mutinous winds.Burst, they wind;Assist the storm,So perfect and so peerless.A thing most brutish,Hollow burst of bellowing.Our royal, good and gallant ship.We split!We split!We run ourselves aground.Light of God upon us,To smite or save us?Only the Tempest knows.Are we not along?This storm, unnatural; not man.These are devils.Dashed all to pieces,Stained with grief.Tears run down his beard like winter.Brave God, I have suffered.Delicate monster, quit the vessel