THE TEMPEST.
A FRAGMENT.
"Mors erat ante oculos."
Lucan, lib. ix.
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The forest made my home—the voiceful streams
My minstrel throng: the everlasting hills,—
Which marry with the firmament, and cry
Unto the brazen thunder, 'Come away,
Come from thy secret place, and try our strength,—'
Enwrapp'd me with their solemn arms. Here, light
Grew pale as darkness, scarëd by the shade
O' the forest Titans. Here, in piny state,
Reign'd Night, the Æthiopian queen, and crown'd
