110
Poems.
THE STORM SPIRIT.
The storm spirit rose on the midnight air,
From his slumber long and deep,
And fluttered his pinions here and there,
While his fearful brow did darkness wear,
As he took at nature a peep.
From his slumber long and deep,
And fluttered his pinions here and there,
While his fearful brow did darkness wear,
As he took at nature a peep.
"Too long," said he, "have the elements slept;
Their chains—'t is for me to break them;
And since in that art I'm called an adept,
My trust, I hope, I have faithfully kept,
So now I'll try to awake them."
Their chains—'t is for me to break them;
And since in that art I'm called an adept,
My trust, I hope, I have faithfully kept,
So now I'll try to awake them."
He breathed a loud blast, and the clouds upreared
Their heads in a hideous heap;
The greatest confusion quickly appeared,
While a frightful noise around was heard,
In taking his onward leap.
Their heads in a hideous heap;
The greatest confusion quickly appeared,
While a frightful noise around was heard,
In taking his onward leap.
The thunder pealed forth with its awful sound,
While lightning flashed from on high;
And far over hills and the vales around,
The hail and rain together did bound,
And blackness marked the sky.
While lightning flashed from on high;
And far over hills and the vales around,
The hail and rain together did bound,
And blackness marked the sky.
