And women clapt their hands, and hoarsely men
Implored, and piercing shrieks of children stream
Far o’er the tumult to the topmost beam
Of that tall Gothic pile. As in some vast
Disastrous shipwreck, howling winds do seem
With roaring waves to struggle fierce and fast,
And cries of drowning men are mingled with the blast.
XXIII.
Then rushed the crowd, by instinct furious borne
Of life preserving, like the Ocean surge