269 



SONG OF THE TEMPEST-FIEND. 



I marked her ! — the pennants, how gaily they streamed ! — 



How well was she armed for resistance ! 

 The waves that sustained her, how brightly they beamed 

 In the sun's setting rays, and the sailors all seemed 



To forget the storm-spirit's existence. 



But I marked her ! — and now from the clouds I descend ! 



My spells to the billows I mutter ! 

 I clap my black pinions ! my wand I extend, 

 In darkness the sky and the ocean to blend, 



And the winds mark the charms which I utter. 



Now more and more rapid in eddies I whirl, 

 In my voice while the thunder-clap rumbles : 



And now the white mountainous waves, as they curl, 



I joy o'er the deck of the vessel to hurl, 

 And laugh, as she tosses and tumbles. 



The crew is alarmed ; but the tempest prevails, 



No care from my fury delivers ! 

 Ere there 's time for their furling the canvass, the sails 

 From the top to the bottom I split with my nails, 



And they stream in the blast, rent in shivers ! 



The sky and the ocean, fierce battle they wage ; 



The elements all are in action ! 

 No sailor the storm longer hopes to assuage : 

 What clamours, what hurry, what oaths, and what rage ! 



Oh, brave ! what despair, what distraction ! 



Their heart-strings, they ache, while my ravage they view; 



Each knee 'gainst its fellow is knocking ! 

 My eyes, darting lightnings to dazzle the crew, 

 Burn and blaze; and those lightnings so forked and so blue 



Make the darkness of midnight more shocking. 



