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THE WAR-CRY OF THE WINDS.
DASHING against the mountain,
Crashing along the hill ;
Hurrah for the mighty storm-blast !
Man lies still:
Blind with the dazzling lightning,
Deaf with the thunder roar,
His boast as the lord of nature
Heard no more.
Cowering like the tyrant
Hurled from his paper throne ;
The king of the whole creation
Maketh moan.
Batter him, winds, and beat him,
Scatter his ships at sea ;
We owe him a debt of arrogance, —
Winds are free.
