Oh! 't is an hour to misery dear! No noise but dashing waves I hear, Save hollow blasts that rush around, For Midnight reigns with horrors crowned. Lo! clouds in swarthy grandeur sweep Portentous o'er the troubled deep: O'er the tall rocks' majestic heads, See, billowy vapour slowly spreads: And lo! fantastic shapes seem near, The rocks with added height appear, And from the mist, to seek the tide, Gigantic figures darkly glide; While, with quick step and hurried mien, The timid fly the fearful scene. Again loud blasts I shuddering hear, Which to my mournful soul appear To toll some shipwrecked sailor's knell! Of fear, of grief, of death, they tell. Perhaps they bade yon foaming tide Unheard-of misery scatter wide. Hail! dread idea, fancy-taught,.... To me with gloomy pleasure fraught! I should rejoice the world to see Distrest, distracted, lost, like me. Oh! why is phrensy called a curse? I deem the sense of misery worse: Come, Madness, come! though pale with fear Be joy's flusht cheek when thou art near, On thee I eager glances bend; Despair, O Madness, calls thee friend! Come, with thy visions cheer my gloom,.... Spread o'er my cheek thy feverish bloom, To my weak form thy strength impart, From my sunk eye thy lightnings dart! O come, and on the troubled air Throw rudely my disordered hair; Arm me with thy supporting pride, Let me all ills, all fears deride! O bid me roam in tattered vest, Bare to the wintry wind my breast, Horrors with dauntless eye behold, And stalk in fancied greatness bold! Let me, from yonder frowning rock, With thy shrill scream the billows mock; With fearless step ascend the steep That totters o'er the encroaching deep; And while the swelling main along Blue lightning's awful splendours throng,.... And while within each warring wave Unnumbered victims find a grave, And thunders rend the ear of Night, Which happy wanderers' souls affright,.... Let ME the mountain torrent quaff, And midst the war of nature ... laugh! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SNOW-STORM; SCENE IN A VERMONT WINTER by CHARLES GAMAGE EASTMAN THE USE OF FLOWERS by MARY HOWITT WARREN'S ADDRESS [TO THE AMERICANS] [AT BUNKER HILL] [JUNE 17, 1775] by JOHN PIERPONT SIX TOWN ECLOGUES: SATURDAY; THE SMALL-POX by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS RHAPSODY by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |