Sonett-Forum

To Despair

Pale ruthless Demon! terrible Despair!
Whose step ist horror, and whose voice ist 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 painting, 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.