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And fair the distant landscape seem'd, While yet the radiant sun on highFar o'er the glassy ocean stream'd, And blaz'd amid the azure sky.
The awful calm that breath'd around, As if all nature's pulse were still,—The silence broke not by a sound,— With pious awe their bosoms fill.
But soon that awe was chang'd to dread, When rush'd the tempest wild and loud,For sudden storm began to spread, And lightnings darted from the cloud.
The rolling thunder peal'd afar; In rushing torrents fell the rain;The jarring elements at war, With horrid tumult shook the main.
All-gracious Heav'n! avert their doom;— They drive before th' unsparing gale;Still darker frowns the gath'ring gloom, And ev'ry cheek is deadly pale.
Close to his panting heart, the sire With anguish press'd his hopes, his pride—Quick flash'd across the blue-wing'd fire, And laid them breathless at his side!
"My boys! my boys!" he madly cries, While louder still the tempest blows:
