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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409428" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Enceladus. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under Mount Etna he lies,<br>It is slumber, it is not death;<br>For he struggles at times to arise,<br>And above him the lurid skies<br>Are hot with his fiery breath. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The crags are piled on his breast,<br>The earth is heaped on his head;<br>But the groans of his wild unrest,<br>Though smothered and half suppressed,<br>Are heard, and he is not dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the nations far away<br>Are watching with eager eyes;<br>They talk together and say,<br>'To-morrow, perhaps to-day,<br>Euceladus will arise! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the old gods, the austere<br>Oppressors in their strength,<br>Stand aghast and white with fear<br>At the ominous sounds they hear,<br>And tremble, and mutter, 'At length!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah me! for the land that is sown<br>With the harvest of despair!<br>Where the burning cinders, blown<br>From the lips of the overthrown<br>Enceladus, fill the air. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where ashes are heaped in drifts<br>Over vineyard and field and town,<br>Whenever he starts and lifts<br>His head through the blackened rifts<br>Of the crags that keep him down. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">See, see! the red light shines!<br>'T is the glare of his awful eyes!<br>And the storm-wind shouts through the pines<br>Of Alps and of Apennines,<br>'Enceladus, arise!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409428" data-title="Enceladus. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second) de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="Under Mount Etna he lies,
It is slumber, it is not death;
For he struggles at times to arise,
And above him the lurid skies
Are hot with his fiery breath. 

The crags are piled on his breast,
The earth is heaped on his head;
But the groans of his ..."></div>
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