The torrent roar’d; and we did buffet it
	With lusty sinews; throwing it aside,
	And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

Shakespeare.    

	I saw him beat the surges under him,
	And ride upon their backs; be trod the water,
	Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
	The surge most swoln that met him.

Shakespeare.    

	There was one did battle with the storm
	With careless, desperate force; full many times
	His life was won and lost, as though he reck’d not—
	No hand did aid him, and he aided none—
	Alone he breasted the broad wave, alone
	That man was sav’d.

Maturin.    

	How many a time have I
	Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring
	The wave all roughen’d; with a swimmer’s stroke
	Flung the billows back from my drench’d hair,
	And laughing from my lip the audacious brine
	Which kiss’d it like a wine-cup rising o’er
	The waves as they rose, and prouder still
	The loftier they uplifted me.

Byron.