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despair, valiantly move the new bodies of waves. They will fall, or they will destroy this dam, or the sea will be their tomb! They move gradually forward, they attack lustily, the rocks quiver under their stroke.
The waves are dying, they jump away, yet with untold fury they strike again.
All is tranformed into chaos.
Groan and thunder resound along the sea. One might say: the sea has heard from its bottom, and joined the sky.
The rocks fall down! under the last stroke they waver, and with a great crash they fall down a precipice, where dead waves are lying.
“Begone! shameful corpses,” roars the seas, to the overthrown rocks, “this is the tomb of warriors for liberty, here young waves are reposing!”
The bottom of the sea is uncovered, exposing a dark precipice. The stern rocks with malediction fall.
