Turn On It, Tune Out, Drop In

SE WIND 10 TO 15 KT. WIND WAVES 3 FT. W SWELL 13 FT AT 12 SECONDS.

Now is the Wint’r of our discontent
All the more ‘nglorious by summ’rs Sun past;
Brace ‘gainst roiling clouds ou’ of north’rn Gulfs
Which the deep bos’m of the Sea ha’ strength’nd.
Now our Brows furrow wi’ squint’n frowns;
And cold bruis’d Arms rub’d in ach’n mis’ry;
Wi’ stern Glares ne’er chang’d to welcome greetings,
Guarding stony mudded marches to hidd’n Pleasures.
Grey and icy Wat’rs present wrinkled fronts;
And ‘stead of waxing sleek fang’d Steeds
T’ confront Faces of worthy ris’ng adversaries,
Ye caper back nimbly ‘ta wheel’d Chambers
And lascivious Strains of strings and skin.
But I do not so eas’ly court Failure,
In the face of the Sea’s looking-glass;
I, am rudely stamp'd, and demanding deep Majesty
And strut ‘fore want’n ambling wat’ry Nymphs;
Not to be curtail'd of their fair Proportion,
Nor cheat’d of Glide by a dissembling nature,
Defeat’d, unfinish'd, nor sent ‘ere my Time
Into the solid World, made up of hills and vales,
So lamely and unfashion’ble Ground’d
Sea Dogs bark at me as I pass by ‘em;
Towering, frothing Walls bring brief peace,
Yet take no delight or e’en note my Passage,
Aside from their const’nt shadowing from the Sun
And effort to afflict ‘pon me mine own Deformity:
And since I can na’ profess my love to the Sea,
For she entertains not e’en the most well-Spoken,
I am determin’d to prove a Villain, taking what I want
And strive ‘gainst the idle constancy of these Waves.
Plots and lines have I laid, some Paths e’en danger’us,
Design’d in drunk’n Prophecies, libels and dream
To set my brother Wind and th’ Swell
Into Battle the one ‘gainst the other:
And if the Wind blow as true and just
As I am subtle, false and Treacherous,
On this day the Swell shall be well held up.
Enough prophecy, which indicates Oceanic distemp’r
Of the Winds heirs shall I gouge and plund’r at will.
And drive, thoughts of fear, far from my Soul: here
A Wave comes.