Chiefly with a jacktowel and some baize!
By which, the cloud had pass’d o’erhead, but play’d
Its crooked fires in constant flashes still,
Just in our rear, as though it had array’d
Its heavy batteries at Fairlight Mill,
So that it lit the town, and grandly made
The rugged features of the Castle Hill
Leap, like a birth, from chaos, into light,
And then relapse into the gloomy night—
As parcel of the cloud:—the clouds themselves,