Perchance, his want of skill they saw,
And from destruction quick withdraw
To where they may their lives insure.
'Tis but midday, yet darkness shrouds the sky,
For clouds of blackness furiously roll by.
The watery sun has fled, but not to rest—
Behind a cloud which overflows the West—
The distant thunder strikes the list'ning ear,
And streams of lightning pour down far and near.
Yet still dame Nature grasps the slippery rains,