The Storm



The Storm

Behold the sky is overcast,

With a terrific gloom;

The doleful night is hastening fast,

And brings impending doom.


The atmosphere’s in tumults hurl’d,

And from the frowning north,

The storm upon the watery world,

In fury marches forth.


The bosum of the mighty deep,

Is swell’d, and day departs;

As bursting from a silent sleep,

Gigantic horror starts.


Its darkening waves with fearful force,

The angry ocean lifts;

The billows overflow their course,

And sweep the lofty clifts.


On high the shivering vessels rocks,

Upon the ambitious wave;

The seaman’s art and skill it mocks,

And threats a watery grave.


The lightenings dart: with awful glare,

Fast fly the vivid flakes;

The thunder rends the boundless air,

And Heaven’s high vault it shakes.


While toss’d upon the deep abyss,

The hapless seamen give

The mournful signal of distress,

But none can give them relieve.


They can no where for shelter hide,

To shun the ruthless foe;

Danger looks big on every side,

They fear increase of woe.


All gracious Heaven, in mercy deign,

Their hapless state to view!

Thou can’st the raging winds restrain,

And calm the ocean too.


Danger her direful yell repeats,

Thy pity now they crave:

Oh! let them know the power that threats

Is still as strong to save.


To stormy winds thou giv’st decree,

Thy judgements to fulfil:

As heralds of thy majesty,

They all obey thy will.


Mary M Colling, 1831




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