Cowper says grandly,
"A terrible sagacity informs
The Poet's heart: he looks to distant storms;
He hears the thunder ere the tempest lowers."
He is speaking of tempests in the moral world. You know the passage—it is a fine one—so indeed is the whole Epistle—Table-Talk. I am a bit of a Poet myself in smelling thunder. Early this morning I set it down for mid-day—and it is mid-day now.
BULLER.
Liker Evening.
NORTH.
Dimmish and darkish, certainly—but unlike Evening. I pray you look at the Sun.
BULLER.
What about him?
NORTH.