Yon southern hill, which promised to the sight
A rise more easy to attack the fort,
Scarce had we stept on the forbidden ground,
When the woods shook, the trees stood bristling up;
A living trembling nodded through the leaves.
Arth. Poplars, and aspen-boughs; a panic fright.
Con. We thought so too, and doubled still our pace;
But strait a rumbling sound, like bellowing winds,
Rose and grew loud; confused with howls of wolves,
And grunts of bears, and dreadful hiss of snakes;