| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | III. A Moment of Dread in Modern Pompeii | | By Charles Strong |
| | | I NEVER with such horror stood aghast, | |
| As when, in lone Pompeii’s silent street, | |
| I felt thy mighty pulse, Vesuvius, beat, | |
| And from thy jaws saw burst the fiery blast. | |
| Thunders were loud, and smoke in columns vast | 5 |
| Mantled the air with darkness, and strange heat | |
| Warned the sad peasant from his vine-clad seat, | |
| As down the fruitful slope the red stream passed. | |
| I feared lest might return that dreadful hour, | |
| When to their gods for help the people ran, | 10 |
| And there was none, in temple, nor in tower: | |
| And to my vision came the enthusiast man, | |
| Who perished in the breath of that foul shower, | |
| Nature’s dread secrets obstinate to scan. 1 | |
|
|
|
