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Percy Bysshe Shelley - On The Dark Height of Jura
Work rating: Low

I.
Ghosts of the dead! have I not heard your yelling
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the blast,
When o’er the dark aether the tempest is swelling,
And on eddying whirlwind the thunder-peal passed?

II.
For oft have I stood on the dark height of Jura
Which frowns on the valley that opens beneath;
Oft have I braved the chill night-tempest`s fury,
Whilst around me, I thought, echoed murmurs of death.

III.
And now, whilst the winds of the mountain are howling,
O father! thy voice seems to strike on mine ear;
In air whilst the tide of the night-storm is rolling,
It breaks on the pause of the elements` jar.

IV.
On the wing of the whirlwind which roars o`er the mountain
Perhaps rides the ghost of my sire who is dead:
On the mist of the tempest which hangs o`er the fountain,
Whilst a wreath of dark vapour encircles his head.
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