SONGS OF RUSSIA
In the wrath of the thunder, the keen, quick-eared demon
Has long since detected a note of fatigue.
He is firm in his faith that the clouds will not cover
The bright sun for aye, though they stretch league on league.
The storm-wind is howling, the thunder is roaring;
With flame blue and lambent the cloud-masses glow
O’er the fathomless ocean; it catches the lightnings,
And quenches them deep in its whirlpool below.
Like serpents of fire in the dark ocean writhing,
The lightnings reflected there quiver and shake
As into the blackness they vanish forever.
The tempest! Now quickly the tempest will break!
The storm-finch soars fearless and proud ’mid the lightnings,
Above the wild waves that the roaring winds fret;
And what is the prophet of victory saying?
“Oh, let the storm burst! Fiercer yet—fiercer yet!”
12
