Fast from each home the frenzied inmates pour;
From every heart affrighted mercy flies,
While her soft voice amidst the tumult dies.
Then the earth trembles, as from street to street
The tramp of steeds, the press of hastening feet,
The roll of wheels, all mingling in the breeze,
Come deepening onward, as the swell of seas
Heard at the dead of midnight; or the moan
Of distant tempests, or the hollow tone
Of the far thunder! Then what feelings press’d,