Poems (Edwards)/The Storm King
THE STORM-KING.
The Storm-King trod on the cold white hills,
And his step was proud and high;
And the tall trees bowed with trembling awe,
As he passed in fury by;
I come, he cried, from my Northern home,
From my bed in the frozen sea,
And anguish attends my steps as I come,
Make room, make room for me.
And his step was proud and high;
And the tall trees bowed with trembling awe,
As he passed in fury by;
I come, he cried, from my Northern home,
From my bed in the frozen sea,
And anguish attends my steps as I come,
Make room, make room for me.
I passed proud ships as they rode on the wave,
All buoyant with life in their breast;
And I gazed with scorn upon their gallant sails,
As I paused awhile for rest;
The young, the good, and the fair were there,
Old age with its withered cheek,
Bright youth in the cloudless morn of life,
And childhood frail and weak.
All buoyant with life in their breast;
And I gazed with scorn upon their gallant sails,
As I paused awhile for rest;
The young, the good, and the fair were there,
Old age with its withered cheek,
Bright youth in the cloudless morn of life,
And childhood frail and weak.
But I swung them up on giant waves,
Then down in the surging sea,
And I clapped my hands at their horrid shrieks,
And laughed their fear to see;
Down, down, still down in the boiling sea,
That ship and its crew I toss'd,
Till none were left of its noble band,
To mourn o'er companions lost.
Then down in the surging sea,
And I clapped my hands at their horrid shrieks,
And laughed their fear to see;
Down, down, still down in the boiling sea,
That ship and its crew I toss'd,
Till none were left of its noble band,
To mourn o'er companions lost.
Then after my work of death was done,
And the groans of the dying were o'er,
I left the ocean, and onward swept,
Till I came to a widow's door;
I howled around in my fearful might,
Till her cottage in ruins lay;
Then, whistling loud in my dreadful flight,
I resumed my destructive way.
And the groans of the dying were o'er,
I left the ocean, and onward swept,
Till I came to a widow's door;
I howled around in my fearful might,
Till her cottage in ruins lay;
Then, whistling loud in my dreadful flight,
I resumed my destructive way.
I met a traveller, faint and wan,
His cheek was haggard and pale,
And I fanned his brow with my freezing breath,
In a loud and boisterous gale;
He thought of his home and the loved ones there,
Who would hear his voice no more,
And he sank, benumbed on the cold white snow,
Then perished amid my roar.
His cheek was haggard and pale,
And I fanned his brow with my freezing breath,
In a loud and boisterous gale;
He thought of his home and the loved ones there,
Who would hear his voice no more,
And he sank, benumbed on the cold white snow,
Then perished amid my roar.
I saw the home of the frozen man,
Companion and children were there;
But I laughed at the woe of the stricken band,
And felt, for their grief, no care;
I swept them by in my stormy car,
And shouted aloud to hear
The low deep wail of the widow's heart,
For her friend and companion dear.
Companion and children were there;
But I laughed at the woe of the stricken band,
And felt, for their grief, no care;
I swept them by in my stormy car,
And shouted aloud to hear
The low deep wail of the widow's heart,
For her friend and companion dear.
Your heart would burn, and your brain would whirl,
Could you know of my wild career,
Your lips would quiver, and your swimming eyes,
Grow dim with the falling tear;
But ye know enough, though ye know not half
Of the Storm-King's powerful might,
And his voice ye may hear, as he rattles by,
In his stormy car to-night.
Could you know of my wild career,
Your lips would quiver, and your swimming eyes,
Grow dim with the falling tear;
But ye know enough, though ye know not half
Of the Storm-King's powerful might,
And his voice ye may hear, as he rattles by,
In his stormy car to-night.