Songs of a Stranger :: :: University of Virginia Library

Songs of a Stranger

by Louisa Stuart Costello

Costello, Louisa Stuart (1799-1870)

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THE DESTROYING SPIRIT.

“Mountains of sand and rock, elevated and hewn perpendicularly, present on the eastern shore of the Nile, the course of which they contract, an impregnable chain. They extend themselves to a distance, by immense and frequent intersection, into the desert, the horrors of which they augment.
[OMITTED]
“These barren and horrible mountains are the domain of a multitude of birds, which have there fixed their habitations, where they never meet with any disturbance, and from whence they spread themselves over the waters and through the country to search for prey. The name of Dsjebel el Teir— Mountain of the Birds, given to this chain, indicates its inhabitants.” — Sonnini's Egypt.

“An inundation of the Nile gives a correct picture of a deluge. The cottages, being built of earth, could not stand one instant against the current. The rapid stream carried off all that was before it, men, women, children, cattle, corn, all was washed away in a moment, and left the place where the village stood without any thing to indicate that there had ever been a house on the spot. It is one vast ocean, out of which rise numerous islands and many magnificent ruins.
[OMITTED]
“On our way down, it was pleasing to see the difference of the country: all the lands that were under water before were now not only dried up, but already sown; the muddy villages carried off by the rapid current were all rebuilt; the fences opened, the fellahs at work in the fields, and all wore a different aspect; yet the waters had subsided only fifteen days.”— Belzoni's Egypt.

For a description of a frightful valley, and traditions of evil spirits inhabiting temples of stone and decoying travellers, see Fraser's Tour through the Snowy Range of the Himmālā.

I sit upon the rocks that frown
Above the rapid Nile;
And on the toil of man look down
With bitter and scornful smile.
My rocks are inaccessible,
And few return their terrors to tell.

My subjects are the birds, whose wings
Never soar'd into other air;
To whose shrill cries each echo rings—
For their nests are hidden there:
They dip their plumes in that mighty river,
Whose course is onward—onward, for ever.

I see the deluge come sweeping on
Where waving corn-fields gleam;
And forests, and cities, and herds are gone,
Like the shadows of a dream:

The rushing tide is an ocean now,
And islands of ruin darken its brow.

But the waters sink, and earth again
Smiles under Nature's gentlest reign:
Where, from scenes of bliss, shall I go?
I—whose existence is terror and woe.
Now I hide in the burning breast
Of some mountain, whose fires are never at rest,
And urge the torrents that downward flow,
Crushing and swallowing all below.
Then, through the air—away!—away!
Till I check my course on the dread Himmaleh:
Down to its deepest valleys I dive,
Which no mortal can ever see and live,
To visit the evil spirits who dwell
In the ceaseless gloom of that murky dell.

With them, from their rocky temples I roam,
To lure the traveller from his home:
When he rests beneath some charmed tree
With dreams we vex his mind;
And he wakes our hideous forms to see,
As we hover upon the wind;

And our voices howl in the hurrying blast,
Till in frantic fear he breathes his last:
Then we bear him to our dismal cave,
And his tortured spirit we claim as our slave!

I dwell where tempests are loud and dread—
I ride on the billow's foam;
And wherever terror is widest spread
There is the Spirit's home.