The Trade Ship Wrecks and the Network Mourns

The east wind finds a loaded hull

Thy rowers have brought thee into great waters; the east wind has broken thee in the midst of the seas. Riches, fairs, merchandise, mariners, pilots, calkers, occupiers of merchandise, all the men of war, and all the company fall into the midst of the seas in the day of her ruin.

The ship was perfect because it was full. Fullness is what sinks. Suburbs shake at the cry of the pilots. All that handle the oar, mariners, and pilots of the sea come down from their ships, stand upon the land, cry bitterly, cast dust, wallow in ashes, make themselves bald, and gird with sackcloth.

Traders hiss at a terror they once needed

They take up a lamentation: What city is like Tyrus, like the destroyed in the midst of the sea? When thy wares went forth, thou filledst many people; thou didst enrich the kings of the earth with thy riches and merchandise. Now thou art broken by the seas in the depths of the waters; thy merchandise and company are fallen.

Inhabitants of the isles are astonished. Their kings are sore afraid; their faces tremble. The merchants among the people hiss; Tyre is a terror, and never shall be any more. The wreck does not teach that every failed business is judgment, and it does not say dependents deserve to drown with exploitative elites. The poem still tells the human cost of a glorious hull.