When the red lightnings through the ether fly,
And the white foaming billows lash the shores;
When to the rattling thunders of the sky
The angry Demon of the waters roars;
And when, untouch'd by Nature's living fires,
No native rapture fills the drowsy soul;
Then former ages, with their tuneful lyres,
Can bid the fury of the passions fall.
By the blue taper's melancholy light,
Whilst all around the midnight torrents pour,