 | Songs of the Sea Nymphs |  |
38
FRAGMENT.
The moon has vanished like some gliding ghost,
That for a moment mounts the distant hill,
Where waving trees appear a gather'd host,
Through whose dark ranks the night wind whistles shrill,
Came she alone to view a scene so still,
Or to announce the tempest's scatt'ring rage?
A sultry warmth dispels the night breeze chill;
I hear the distant storm, it comes to wage
War with the slumbering world, and will 'ere long engage.
That for a moment mounts the distant hill,
Where waving trees appear a gather'd host,
Through whose dark ranks the night wind whistles shrill,
Came she alone to view a scene so still,
Or to announce the tempest's scatt'ring rage?
A sultry warmth dispels the night breeze chill;
I hear the distant storm, it comes to wage
War with the slumbering world, and will 'ere long engage.
It comes! it comes! the cavern'd thunder springs
From its dark bed; the clouds are rolling back
To gather strength; hark! now the welkin rings,
Nature awakes, hills echo, mountains crack,
Now darkness dons his suit of blackest black;
From clashing chariots leap the shining train
Of blue wing'd lightnings, now is seen their track
Through the dun thicket, now, sweeping the plain;
The flying steeds are seen shaking their fiery mane.
From its dark bed; the clouds are rolling back
To gather strength; hark! now the welkin rings,
Nature awakes, hills echo, mountains crack,
Now darkness dons his suit of blackest black;
From clashing chariots leap the shining train
Of blue wing'd lightnings, now is seen their track
Through the dun thicket, now, sweeping the plain;
The flying steeds are seen shaking their fiery mane.
39
I am a child of tempest—and I love
To view the lightnings wave their flaming arms,
And hear the pealing thunder roll above
The answering hills, nor shrink when heaven alarms
The slumb'ring earth: her gleaming torch hath charms
She then reveals, darting from vale to vale,
Rushing in blazing splendour, to disarm
Black column'd night; earth's clad in fiery mail,
While loud, hoarse rumbling thunder shouts amid the gale.
To view the lightnings wave their flaming arms,
And hear the pealing thunder roll above
The answering hills, nor shrink when heaven alarms
The slumb'ring earth: her gleaming torch hath charms
She then reveals, darting from vale to vale,
Rushing in blazing splendour, to disarm
Black column'd night; earth's clad in fiery mail,
While loud, hoarse rumbling thunder shouts amid the gale.
Who dare ascend the hill when tempests beat,
And howling winds are loose and walk abroad;
When on dark clouds the thunderer makes his seat,
And bids his black artillery explode?
Who's dar'd to mark him, as he proudly rode
On his dun car, rolling from rock to rock,
That echoing trembles 'neath the mighty load?
The turrets boasted strength his hot bolts mock,
He strikes—piecemeal they fall to earth with dreadful shock.
And howling winds are loose and walk abroad;
When on dark clouds the thunderer makes his seat,
And bids his black artillery explode?
Who's dar'd to mark him, as he proudly rode
On his dun car, rolling from rock to rock,
That echoing trembles 'neath the mighty load?
The turrets boasted strength his hot bolts mock,
He strikes—piecemeal they fall to earth with dreadful shock.
Who's dared to claim a kindred with the storm,
Or dance, link'd hand in hand with raging wind?
Or mount the lofty billows, and perform
The mad'ning reel, where seas roll unconfined,
And wave worn vales with streaming flames are lined?
Upon their blue curled heads red lightnings slide;
Anon, the leaping thunder bounds behind,
Chasing hot shafts, which thro' the valleys glide,
While on white foaming waves the thunderer dares to ride.
Or dance, link'd hand in hand with raging wind?
Or mount the lofty billows, and perform
The mad'ning reel, where seas roll unconfined,
And wave worn vales with streaming flames are lined?
Upon their blue curled heads red lightnings slide;
Anon, the leaping thunder bounds behind,
Chasing hot shafts, which thro' the valleys glide,
While on white foaming waves the thunderer dares to ride.
40
On mountain waves, behold—behold him stand,
Hurling his red shafts thro' the sable sky;
Grasping long forked lightnings in his hand,
Ten thousand thunderbolts around him lie,
At his hoarse mandate o'er the hills they fly,
Split the firm rock, scatter the lofty tower,
Aim'd by his piercing, dark, unerring eye,
Hell gapes, and from the blaze receives fresh power,
Catching the flaming brands, as sand inhales a shower.
Hurling his red shafts thro' the sable sky;
Grasping long forked lightnings in his hand,
Ten thousand thunderbolts around him lie,
At his hoarse mandate o'er the hills they fly,
Split the firm rock, scatter the lofty tower,
Aim'd by his piercing, dark, unerring eye,
Hell gapes, and from the blaze receives fresh power,
Catching the flaming brands, as sand inhales a shower.
I love the open air, the breadth of heaven,
I love the forest's depth, the mountain high,
Britain's own Alps, the peak by thunder riven,
The midnight dark, when fire wing'd lightnings fly,
Waving their blazing banners o'er the sky,
As tho' they gave the pealing thunder chase;
Hark! now I hear the mocking hills reply
In dreadful laughter, now two clouds embrace
With furious clash; earth totters on its flimsy base.
I love the forest's depth, the mountain high,
Britain's own Alps, the peak by thunder riven,
The midnight dark, when fire wing'd lightnings fly,
Waving their blazing banners o'er the sky,
As tho' they gave the pealing thunder chase;
Hark! now I hear the mocking hills reply
In dreadful laughter, now two clouds embrace
With furious clash; earth totters on its flimsy base.
| Songs of the Sea Nymphs | |