Poems and Plays :: :: University of Virginia Library

When to the city's weak defenceless wall
Its foes were rushing, at their trumpet's call,
The air grew troubled with portentous sound,
And mournful omens multiplied around;

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With furious shock the elements engage,
And all the winds contend in all their rage.

From clashing clouds their mingled torrents gush,
And rain and hail with rival fury rush.
Bolts of loud thunder, floods of lightning rend
The opening skies, and into earth descend.

O'er the vast army equal terrors spread;
No mind escapes the universal dread;
No breast, tho' arm'd with adamantine power,
Holds its firm vigour in this horrid hour;
For now the fierce Eponamon appears,
And in a Dragon's form augments their fears;
Involving flames around the Dæmon swell,
Who speaks his mandate in a hideous yell:
He bids his votaries with haste invest
The trembling city, by despair deprest.
Where'er th' invading squadrons force their way,
He promises their arms an easy prey.
Spare not (he cry'd) in the relentless strife,
One Spanish battlement, one Christian life!
He spoke, and, while the host his will adore,
Melts into vapour, and is seen no more.

Quick as he vanish'd Nature's struggles cease;
The troubled elements are sooth'd to peace:
The winds no longer rage with boundless ire,
But, hush'd in silence, to their caves retire:
The clouds disperse, restoring as they fly
The unobstructed sun and azure sky:

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Fear only held its place, and still possest
Usurp'd dominion o'er the boldest breast.

The tempest ceas'd, and heaven, serenely bright,
Array'd the moisten'd earth in joyous light:
When, pois'd upon a cloud that swiftly flew,
A Female form descended to their view,
Clad in the radiance of so rich a veil,
As made the sun's meridian lustre pale;
For it outshone his golden orb as far
As his full blaze outshines the twinkling star.
Her sacred features banish all their dread,
And o'er the host reviving comfort shed.
An hoary Elder by her side appear'd,
For age and sanctity of life rever'd;
And thus she spoke, with soft persuasive grace:
Ah! whither rush ye, blind devoted race?
Turn, while you can, towards your native plain,
Nor 'gainst yon city point your arms in vain;
For God will guard his faithful Christian band,
And give them empire o'er your bleeding land,
Since, thankless, false, and obstinate in ill,
You scorn submission to his sacred will.
Yet shun those walls; th' Almighty, there ador'd,
There arms his people with Destruction's sword.

So spoke the Vision, with an angel's tongue,
And thro' the spacious air to heaven she sprung.