At times I travel in tracks undreamed of,
In vasty wave-depths to visit the earth,
The floor of the ocean. Fierce is the sea
. . . . . . . the foam rolls high;
5 The whale-pool roars and rages loudly;
The streams beat the shores, and they sling at times
Great stones and sand on the steep cliffs,
With weeds and waves, while wildly striving
Under the burden of billows on the bottom of ocean
10 The sea-ground I shake. My shield of waters
I leave not ere he lets me who leads me always
In all my travels. Tell me, wise man,
Who was it that drew me from the depth of the ocean
When the streams again became still and quiet,
15 Who before had forced me in fury to rage?