——Now deep
Nature had sunk in darkness and in sleep—
The dawn yet peeped not—stillness reigned intense,
(Far, far more terrible than turbulence,)
Save where the rustling leaf, the beetle's drone,
The bat's, the night-hawk's shriek, or noise unknown,
Or the owl's hoot, long echoing far and near,
Fearfully solemn met the vacant ear
Sultry and clogged the air, an aching load
Hung o'er the traveller's brow—the dusky road
Soon merged in blackness, as th' impending sky
In pitchy horror pained the baffled eye.
He mends his pace, in palpitating haste
To gain his home—Alas! his toil how waste,
With lightning striving—swift it fires the air,
Darting its forky terrors with a glare
So white, so instant, through the solid black,
That the scared soul seeks shelter in the crack
Of bursting thunder—every following flash
Lights more terrific the black forest's crash.
Hark to the shattered oak! behold it, low,
In severed ruin bow,
Then blaze aloft—on right—on left—
Another, then another cleft—
And shall he then escape?
Saw you yon lightning leap
In pronged divergence to the furrowed ground?
There shall his corpse be found.
Instant his fate!
Such may await
We know not whom, nor when, nor where,
And, through the turmoiled air,
To the horizon's utmost verge,
Dull thunder rumbles out his funeral dirge
With aching brow,
In listening sorrow,
His widow now
Shall wait the morrow
The morrow brings him not—he lies
Where the hot lightning sealed his eyes
But busy bruit, mischievously kind,
Will hint her loss, and strive to sooth her mind,
And, after torturing suspense, will try
To introduce her to her misery.