FRAGMENT.
87
All she could rescue of the innocent group
That yesterday surrounded her—Escaped
Almost by miracle!—Fear, frantic Fear,
Wing'd her weak feet; yet, half repenting now
Her headlong haste, she wishes she had staid
To die with those affrighted Fancy paints
The lawless soldiers' victims—Hark! again
The driving tempest bears the cry of Death;
And with deep, sudden thunder, the dread sound
Of cannon vibrates on the tremulous earth;
While, bursting in the air, the murderous bomb
Glares o'er her mansion—Where the splinters fall
Like scatter'd comets, its destructive path
Is mark'd by wreaths of flame!—Then, overwhelm'd
