Felicia Hemans

“ Fall prostrate!—'tis the dread Simoom!
Bow down your faces—till the blast
On its red wing of flame hath past,
Far bearing o'er the sandy wave,
The viewless angel of the grave.
It came—'tis vanish'd—but hath left
The wanderers e'en of hope bereft† [2] ;
The ardent heart, the vigorous frame,
Pride, courage, strength, its power could tame;
Faint with despondence, worn with toil,
They sink upon the burning soil ”

“ To pierce the forest's twilight maze,
Or from the Alpine summit gaze;
For Nature there all joyous reigns,
And fills with life her wild domains:
A bird's light wing may break the air,
A fairy stream may murmur there ”

“ No stone their tale of death shall tell,
—The desert guards its mysteries well!
And o'er th' unfathom'd sandy deep
Where low their nameless relics sleep,
Oft shall the future Pilgrim tread,
Nor know his steps are on the dead!
↑ * The mirage, or nitrous sand assuming the appearance of water. ↑ † The extreme languor and despondence produced by the Simoom, even when its effects are not fatal, have been described by many travellers. ”