The Storm-King.
When ocean is calm and the air’s soft balm,O’er the glassy surface sweeps;Far in his deep cave, by the salt sea wave,The Storm-king soundly sleeps.The winds at his call will rise or will fall,Each wave is beneath his sway;The gloom of his frown brings the black clouds down,And turns into night the day.When his dream is o’er, by the rock-reef shore,In anger he rushes forth,And calls each dread wave from its secret cave,And beckons fierce blasts from the north.Then proudly he rides o’er the boiling tides,As they eddy around the rocks;Whilst their awful roar on the wreck-strewn shore,The hollow-voiced thunder mocks.When ocean and cloud like a woven shroud,Are all mingled into one,Amidst the dense spray he pursues his way,And hurries triumphant on.The terrible form of the king of storm,Few mortal eyes have seen;Or his fierce glance cast where the lightning’s blast,Hath shivered the rocks in twain.If you would behold the vision unrolledOf the Storm-king on his way;Then his to yon steep that o’erlooks the deep,Where the weed-strewn sea-caves lay.When winds have the tone of a dull low moan,Foretelling a coming blast;’Tis a sign that he, from his sleep is free,And gathers his armies fast.When ocean roars loud, and the sky’s one cloud,From his dark cave issues he;And if you watch well, where waves highest swell,Perchance his dread look you may see.
When ocean is calm and the air’s soft balm,O’er the glassy surface sweeps;Far in his deep cave, by the salt sea wave,The Storm-king soundly sleeps.The winds at his call will rise or will fall,Each wave is beneath his sway;The gloom of his frown brings the black clouds down,And turns into night the day.When his dream is o’er, by the rock-reef shore,In anger he rushes forth,And calls each dread wave from its secret cave,And beckons fierce blasts from the north.Then proudly he rides o’er the boiling tides,As they eddy around the rocks;Whilst their awful roar on the wreck-strewn shore,The hollow-voiced thunder mocks.When ocean and cloud like a woven shroud,Are all mingled into one,Amidst the dense spray he pursues his way,And hurries triumphant on.The terrible form of the king of storm,Few mortal eyes have seen;Or his fierce glance cast where the lightning’s blast,Hath shivered the rocks in twain.If you would behold the vision unrolledOf the Storm-king on his way;Then his to yon steep that o’erlooks the deep,Where the weed-strewn sea-caves lay.When winds have the tone of a dull low moan,Foretelling a coming blast;’Tis a sign that he, from his sleep is free,And gathers his armies fast.When ocean roars loud, and the sky’s one cloud,From his dark cave issues he;And if you watch well, where waves highest swell,Perchance his dread look you may see.
When ocean is calm and the air’s soft balm,O’er the glassy surface sweeps;Far in his deep cave, by the salt sea wave,The Storm-king soundly sleeps.
When ocean is calm and the air’s soft balm,
O’er the glassy surface sweeps;
Far in his deep cave, by the salt sea wave,
The Storm-king soundly sleeps.
The winds at his call will rise or will fall,Each wave is beneath his sway;The gloom of his frown brings the black clouds down,And turns into night the day.
The winds at his call will rise or will fall,
Each wave is beneath his sway;
The gloom of his frown brings the black clouds down,
And turns into night the day.
When his dream is o’er, by the rock-reef shore,In anger he rushes forth,And calls each dread wave from its secret cave,And beckons fierce blasts from the north.
When his dream is o’er, by the rock-reef shore,
In anger he rushes forth,
And calls each dread wave from its secret cave,
And beckons fierce blasts from the north.
Then proudly he rides o’er the boiling tides,As they eddy around the rocks;Whilst their awful roar on the wreck-strewn shore,The hollow-voiced thunder mocks.
Then proudly he rides o’er the boiling tides,
As they eddy around the rocks;
Whilst their awful roar on the wreck-strewn shore,
The hollow-voiced thunder mocks.
When ocean and cloud like a woven shroud,Are all mingled into one,Amidst the dense spray he pursues his way,And hurries triumphant on.
When ocean and cloud like a woven shroud,
Are all mingled into one,
Amidst the dense spray he pursues his way,
And hurries triumphant on.
The terrible form of the king of storm,Few mortal eyes have seen;Or his fierce glance cast where the lightning’s blast,Hath shivered the rocks in twain.
The terrible form of the king of storm,
Few mortal eyes have seen;
Or his fierce glance cast where the lightning’s blast,
Hath shivered the rocks in twain.
If you would behold the vision unrolledOf the Storm-king on his way;Then his to yon steep that o’erlooks the deep,Where the weed-strewn sea-caves lay.
If you would behold the vision unrolled
Of the Storm-king on his way;
Then his to yon steep that o’erlooks the deep,
Where the weed-strewn sea-caves lay.
When winds have the tone of a dull low moan,Foretelling a coming blast;’Tis a sign that he, from his sleep is free,And gathers his armies fast.
When winds have the tone of a dull low moan,
Foretelling a coming blast;
’Tis a sign that he, from his sleep is free,
And gathers his armies fast.
When ocean roars loud, and the sky’s one cloud,From his dark cave issues he;And if you watch well, where waves highest swell,Perchance his dread look you may see.
When ocean roars loud, and the sky’s one cloud,
From his dark cave issues he;
And if you watch well, where waves highest swell,
Perchance his dread look you may see.