‘You seize Tornado by his locks of mist,  
Burst his dense clouds, his wheeling spires untwist;  
Wide o’er the West when borne on headlong gales,  
Dark as meridian night, the Monster fails,  

‘Howls high in air, and shakes his curled brow,  
Ladling with serpent-train the waves below,  
Whirls his black arm, the forked lightning flings,  
And showers a deluge from his demon-wings.’  
  
From ‘The Economy of Vegetation’, one of two poems in The Botanic Garden (1791) by naturalist Erasmus Darwin, grandfather of Charles Darwin.