John Freeman’s speaker doesn’t just hear bad weather; he hears something personal and spiteful. A violent wind coming off the mountain feels like an “evil sprite” cursing him, angry at any human joy. The oddness grows because the wind is loud and aggressive while the world around it seems asleep, as if the storm is aimed only at him. Then the real dread arrives when the wind stops. The sudden quiet is worse than the noise: it suggests that whatever was raging has slipped down into the dark, hidden passages of the night, still there and perhaps moving closer. The speaker is left listening into the silence, half-convinced that something malicious is near. The mood is eerie and slightly paranoid, turning ordinary wind and darkness into a landscape of superstitious dread.
The Enemies — Summary
The angry wind That cursed at me Was nothing but an evil sprite Vexed with any man's delight.
And strange it seemed That a dark wind Should run down from a mountain steep And shout as though the world were asleep.
But when he ceased And silence was-- Who could but fear what evil sprite Crept through the tunnels of the night?