An angry cloud, precursor of the storm, Behind the mountains rose, and still increased, Till moon or star no longer could be seen.
She saw it spreading upon every side, And by degrees ascending through the air, And now with its black mantle covering all.
The scanty light more faint and faint became; The wind, meanwhile, was rising in the grove, That on the farther side the spot enclosed;
And, every moment, was more boisterous; Till every bird, awaking in its fright, Amidst the trembling leaves was fluttering.
The cloud, increasing still, unto the coast Descended, so that one extremity The mountains touched, the other touched the sea.
And now from out its black and hollow womb, The pattering rain-drops, falling fast, were heard, The sound increasing as the cloud drew near.
And round her now the glancing lightning flashed In fearful mood, and made her shut her eyes; The ground was black, the air a mass of flame.
Her trembling knees could scarce her weight sustain; The thunder roared with a continuous sound, Like torrent, plunging headlong from the cliff.
At times she paused, the dismal scene to view, In blank dismay; then on she ran again, Her hair and clothes all streaming in the wind.
The cruel wind beat hard against her breast, And rushing fiercely, with its angry breath, The cold drops dashed, remorseless, in her face.