Sudden from tree and thicket green,
From trunk, and mound, and bushy screen,
Sharp lightning flashed with instant sheen,
A thousand death-bolts sung!
Like ripened fruit before the blast,
Rider and horse to earth were cast,
Its miry roots among;
Then wild, as if that earth were riven,
And, pour’d beneath the cope of heaven,
All hell to upper air were given,