| |
| I SEE the cloud-born squadrons of the gale, | |
| Their lines of rain like glittering spears deprest, | |
| While all the affrighted land grows darkly pale | |
| In flashing charge on earth’s half-shielded breast. | |
| |
| Sounds like the rush of trampling columns float | 5 |
| From that fierce conflict; volleyed thunders peal, | |
| Blent with the maddened wind’s wild bugle-note; | |
| The lightnings flash, the solid woodlands reel! | |
| |
| Ha! many a foliaged guardian of the height, | |
| Majestic pine or chestnut, riven and bare, | 10 |
| Falls in the rage of that aerial fight, | |
| Led by the Prince of all the Powers of air! | |
| |
| Vast boughs like shattered banners hurtling fly | |
| Down the thick tumult: while, like emerald snow, | |
| Millions of orphaned leaves make wild the sky, | 15 |
| Or drift in shuddering helplessness below. | |
| |
| Still, still, the levelled lances of the rain | |
| At earth’s half-shielded breast take glittering aim; | |
| All space is rife with fury, racked with pain, | |
| Earth bathed in vapor, and heaven rent by flame! | 20 |
| |
| At last the cloud-battalions through long rifts | |
| Of luminous mists retire:—the strife is done, | |
| And earth once more her wounded beauty lifts, | |
| To meet the healing kisses of the sun. | |
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