Their mystic voices in the chorus grand.
Men sit in silence now with anxious looks,
While timid mothers seek their downy beds,
And press their wailing infants to their breasts.
From her low lattice by the cottage-door,
The bolder housewife marks the pelting storm;
Sees the adventurous traveler onward go,
Seeking his distant hamlet, ere the night
Adds tenfold horrors to the dismal scene.
Swiftly the steed bounds o’er the woodland plain,