Siroc

like the blasting Siroc of the sands, The ruin of the royal voice Found its way everywhere

Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc, When last I press'd thy lip; And long ere now, with foaming shock Impell'd thy gallant ship.

I listened to every blast of wind as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its way to consume me.

These the siroc could not melt, Fire their fiercer flaming felt, And the meaning was more white Than July's meridian light.