They stumbled and fell,

And poor Jack broke his forehead.

(As Swinburne might have written it)

The shudd'ring sheet of rain athwart the trees!

The crashing kiss of lightning on the seas!

The moaning of the night wind on the wold,

That erstwhile was a gentle, murm'ring breeze!

On such a night as this went Jill and Jack

With strong and sturdy strides through dampness black

To find the hill's high top and water cold,