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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=450002" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Destroying Spirit</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sit upon the rocks that frown </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Above the rapid Nile; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And on the toil of man look down </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> With bitter and scornful smile. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My rocks are inaccessible, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And few return their terrors to tell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>My subjects are the birds, whose wings </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Never soar'd into other air; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To whose shrill cries each echo rings— </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For their nests are hidden there: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They dip their plumes in that mighty river, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whose course is onward—onward, for ever. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I see the deluge come sweeping on </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Where waving corn-fields gleam; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And forests, and cities, and herds are gone, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Like the shadows of a dream: <br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The rushing tide is an ocean now; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And islands of ruin darken its brow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But the waters sink, and earth again </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Smiles under Nature's gentlest reign: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where, from scenes of bliss, shall I go? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I—whose existence is terror and woe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now I hide in the burning breast </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of some mountain, whose fires are never at rest, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And urge the torrents that downward flow, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Crashing and swallowing all below. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Then, through the air—away!—away! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till I check my course on the dread Himmaleh: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down to its deepest valleys I dive, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which no mortal can ever see and live, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To visit the evil spirits who dwell </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the ceaseless gloom of that murky dell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>With them, from their rocky temples I roam, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To lure the traveller from his home: </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When he rests beneath some charmed tree </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> With dreams we vex his mind; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And he wakes our hideous forms to see, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> As we hover upon the wind; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And our voices howl in the hurrying blast, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till in frantic fear he breathes his last: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then we bear him to our dismal cave, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And his tortured spirit we claim as our slave! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> I dwell where tempests are loud and dread— </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I ride on the billow's foam; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And wherever terror is widest spread </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There is the Spirit's home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Louisa+Stuart+Costello">Louisa Stuart Costello</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=450002" data-title="The Destroying Spirit de Louisa Stuart Costello" data-description="I sit upon the rocks that frown 

 Above the rapid Nile; 

And on the toil of man look down 

 With bitter and scornful smile. 

My rocks are inaccessible, 

And few return their terrors to tell. 


My subjects are the birds, whose wings 

 Never ..."></div>
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