LXXXV.
War-clouds have wrapt the city!—through their dun
O’erloaded canopy, at times a blaze
As of an angry storm-presaging sun,
From the Greek fire shoots up![223] and lightning rays
Flash, from the shock of sabres, through the haze,
And glancing arrows cleave the dusky air!
—Ay! this is in the compass of our gaze,
But fearful things unknown, untold, are there—
Workings of wrath and death, and anguish, and despair!