Pale ruthless Demon ! terrible Despair !
Whose step is horror, and whose voice is death !
Thou rid'st on blasts that rend the midnight air,
Mingling with wintry storms thy baleful breath.
Oft too thou sit'st upon a gloomy rock
That overhangs the wild and boist'rous deep;
Where foaming waves the ship-wreck'd seaman mock,
And o'er his head with raging fury sweep.
There dost thou view him struggling with the wave,
And panting, try to gain the welcome shore;
But ah thou doom'st him to a briny grave-
And soon he fainting sinks--to rise no more.
Unpitying Demon ! sure thy pow'r accurst
Is of all human miseries the worst.
Susan Evance (1808)
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