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The bridal of Vaumond

A Metrical Romance

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XIV. SONG CONTINUED.
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XIV.
SONG CONTINUED.

Earth is rending—chasms gape
From beneath the flying tread,
Closing, hopeless of escape,
On the living and the dead!
Half is buried, half is thrown
Writhing on the earth again;—
Shapeless mass! we catch its groan
We prolong its mortal pain.
What is beauty?—mangled members
Now, that once it was proclaim;
Half consum'd in bloody embers,
Who was this? and what her name?